


Council and Ministry

by Sherza



Series: White Knights and Dark Lords [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fixing what got broke, Gen, Learning to play nicely, Politics are messy, Slytherins Being Slytherin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherza/pseuds/Sherza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort has been defeated, and Dumbledore's power broken. Now, can the Wizarding world recover? Can the Wizarding world learn from their mistakes? Can the Wizarding world and the New Watcher's Council coexist peacefully?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deep Thoughts

Deep Thoughts

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. I wish I did, because then I'd be a quadrillionaire, but sadly, I don't and never will. This is a Sequel to White Knights and Dark Lords. It will make NO sense whatever unless you read that first!

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September 22, 1995 Hogwarts

In the end, it took three days for the Wizarding world to calm down enough to begin to think again. Just think. Actual sanity and rational behavior was probably a good month away. Three days of wild, frantic, relieved partying and more gossip and rumors than you could shake a stick at, with no two accounts of the battle agreeing on anything save that Voldemort had exploded. Owls were everywhere. It all made the partying that happened the first time Voldemort disappeared look tame. This time, it was for real, and forever. Most folks didn't quite know what to do with themselves in their relief and joy.

Hogwarts was, by far, more quiet in its celebrations. They'd had that little get together the evening after the fight, but everyone had only just been ambulatory, and the 'party' necessarily brief and quiet. They had too many hurts to do otherwise. Besides, they had work to do.

Harry was currently in the owlery, sitting in one of the arches with Hedwig in his lap, gazing out at the forest and stroking her feathers. He felt ... very odd. Every year for the past four, he'd been in an ever-escalating race against ... something ... that didn't settle down until near school's end. Here it was, the middle of September and ... Voldemort was dead. The big race was already over. It hadn't really sunk in yet. Didn't feel real. Voldemort had been such a huge factor in his life since the moment he'd stepped into the wizarding world that it seemed impossible for him to be gone. That for once, he might actually get to sit back, relax, and enjoy the school year.

That last thought made him grin. Yeah, like he'd ever actually have a normal year. Hah. "Things are so different, Hedwig. And there's so much to be done. But for once, I think maybe I won't be the one having to do it all. It feels kind of nice."

Hedwig hooted at him and nibbled his fingers gently, making Harry grin again as he resumed petting her.

Xander spent most of those three days involved in the solemn duty of informing the parents of the dead, making sure the few remaining demon bodies were disposed of and that the animal corpses were dealt with by means of a large bonfire. There was also the very necessary task of de-readying the castle ... undoing all the bombs and traps and barricading that had been done in preparation for the battle. He, alongside McGonagall, spent a lot of time keeping the ravening hordes (also known as the press) out of the school and away from the kids. After the cock-up that had been the TriWiz and Rita's vicious smear campaign, McGonagall was in absolutely no mood to tolerate the press's presence, and unlike Dumbledore, entirely willing to enforce her right to protect her (mostly underage) students.

Most of the staff had, however, given interviews, to keep the press from screaming too loudly. Most of them, that is, save the Council crew. Xander was more than slightly weirded out by the whole thing. He wasn't used to fame, notoriety, and acclaim for world-savage. Oh, sure, you earned yourself a name and people quivered in fear later, but press interviews right after it happened? Not so much. That he, thanks to the whole axe chop thing, was being hailed as the hero of the hour just made him want to hide even more. This wasn't his role, wasn't how it was supposed to be. He just got done what needed doing, thanks kindly. Somehow (mostly by dint of hiding whenever the press was around) he'd actually managed to avoid giving an interview so far, though it'd been a close call a couple of times. Spike, of course, was having the time of his life twitting Xander about the whole thing. Faith wasn't far behind him, either. Xander was currently debating the wisdom of smacking the crap out of two people who could kick his ass without half trying.

The only Hogwarts resident to avoid the press like the plague was, predictably, Snape. At first, some of the press tried to vilify him as being a bad guy and still loyal to Voldemort or whatever they could come up with. That had resulted in some rather impressive fireworks, Xander heard later, from McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout. Harry had been equally pissed and voiced his displeasure quite loudly when he found out about it, but since he was trying not to get eaten alive by the press, his objections made it to the papers secondhand.

Now, for the first time in days, he had a bit of time to hang out with Harry, and with a bit of help from Dobby, tracked him down to the Owlery. He ducked a couple of low-flying owls and headed for where Harry was sitting.

"Hey, Harry. How you doing?" He asked.

"Pretty good." Harry admitted. "I just ... it feels a little weird, is all. Usually, about this time, I'm only just getting started dealing with the trouble of the year, and yet this time ... " He shrugged.

"You keep wanting to look over your shoulder, waiting for the other shoe?" Xander guessed.

"Yeah. Something like that. I mean, I'm not stupid enough to think that everything from here on out will be smooth sailing, but compared to stressing out over staying alive and/or one step ahead of whoever it is that's up to no good this year ... "

Xander laughed. "Yeah, I can see where that'd be damn strange. How're Sirius and Remus?"

"Scary. They're both healed up and starting to get a bit stir-crazy, but Pomfrey's refusing to clear them for normal activity until tomorrow."

Xander grimaced. "Now that's just asking for that pair to do something reckless."

Harry laughed. "Tell me about it! Though I think I managed to distract them for a little bit when I mentioned wanting to go to the Potter Manor. Now Voldemort and his goons are gone, us living there shouldn't be a problem ... and Sirius has mentioned, repeatedly, how much he despises his parents' place. Not that I blame him, from his descriptions of it. Lord knows that if it was still standing, I wouldn't want to move into Privet Drive if the Durselys had moved out. Anything happening over at the Ministry?"

"Other than a building-wide party, you mean? Not much. Giles says that lot's entirely too punch-happy at the moment to be entrusted with remembering their names, nevermind getting themselves straightened out, though things are starting to slow down. Give it another few days and they might actually be ready to put our troublesome trio on trial." Xander told him.

"That's going to be interesting." Harry said. "Lucius managed to wiggle out of trouble last time."

"Not this time he won't. Not if we have anything to say about it." Xander said. "Besides, I don't think there's anyone left in positions of power that he could bribe."

That made Harry grin. "I'd forgotten about that. I mean, I remember you said Giles yanked Fudge out of power, but I'd forgotten the rest of it."

"Not like there hasn't been a lot going on over the last week or so, is it?" Xander asked.

"Nah. We only staged a revolution. Nothing much at all."

Xander gently gripped Harry's shoulder, grinning. "Hey, it's only a revolution if you're a part of the same governed body. What we did was pull an 'only mostly' hostile takeover. That we plan on giving back, eventually."

"Right, right, my mistake."

Slytherin Dorms

It was amazing, really, how quickly the world could change. A few weeks ago, if you were Slytherin, you were evil. And if you were evil, you only had one choice of job career ... Voldemort's stooge. It had not been a future to look forward to for some, but with no support from on high, they'd seen no other choice. And then life got turned on its head. Snape stalked in after a day-long absence and laid out the facts of life.

That in and of itself had been enough to rattle most of the Slytherins. There had been a good deal of quiet conferencing among the more moderate members of the House, and, eventually, it had been decided that, come what may, they were not going to be anyone's stooge.

Daphne admitted to herself that she'd fully expected to get killed making that stand. But Merlin help her, it had felt good to make that stand, to declare herself her own person. And seeing a muggle, of all people, kill the Dark Lord without getting so much as a scratch in the process had blown away a great deal of the ingrained belief that wizards were inherently superior to muggles. The extremists (Draco and two or three of the sixth and seventh years, mostly) had gone utterly silent in the face of Voldemort's defeat, and from the look of things, were desperately trying to figure out what to do now.

It was a question that Daphne found herself asking. She'd only come up with a partial answer. Slytherin House's reputation had been in the gutter for a long time. In the eyes of most, it was the home of Dark Wizards and needed to be abolished. Daphne decided it was time to change that, and she would do what she could towards that aim. And maybe bring a few of her fellow Slytherins with her. The question was, how?

A very quiet Draco was tucked into a corner of the common room across from Daphne, only his hair giving away his position in the shadows. He'd been doing a lot of hard thinking since he'd talked to Mr. Harris in the aftermath of the battle. His father was ... well, finished. Whether he was killed or incarcerated didn't really matter in the final analysis so much as the fact that he'd be out of the picture. Draco honestly didn't know where his mother's loyalties lay, and after the last week, he was not inclined to put himself in a position where Mr. Harris and his friends would feel they had to deal with him. They were, quite frankly, scary as hell. And brutally efficient.

One thing Mr. Harris said kept rattling in Draco's very busy head. 'Get to know the people you're badmouthing' He'd said. But why should he? Muggles were so ... pathetic? That last word came across as a mocking question in Draco's head, accompanied by a rather lurid and exaggerated mental picture of Xander beheading Voldemort, as told by the myriad witnesses. Ok, so maybe one of them wasn't helpless, but he had, by his own account, spent a lot of time around people who had magic, if not proper wand magic, so he was probably an exception to the rule. Right? Right. There was no need for him to go slumming it with muggles. At that point, Snape stalked into the common room, which made everyone scramble into more appropriate postures.

"You will be pleased to hear that classes will resume as normal on Monday." Snape growled. "As such, it would be wise of you to ensure assignments you have ignored in favor of other matters are completed. Additionally, each of you will present me with a four-foot essay on the battle, with special emphasis on where traditional Slytherin values could have been used to attain similar or better results by the end of the week. If you were not there." Here he bent a dark look on the Slytherins who had abstained from the battle. "Speak to those of your classmates who were. A pensieve will be made available for you to get a clearer view of what occurred if necessary."

He swept back out without waiting for anyone to say anything or giving anyone a chance to ask questions. The essay was but the first on a long line of them that Snape planned to require of the Slytherins, all designed to get them thinking and analyzing, critically necessary skills for a Slytherin. Guile did one no good without the intelligence and information to back it up. Brute force bullying was at best an exceedingly poor substitute for a well-thought-out and subtly executed ploy. The long, hard, and painful process of retraining Slytherin House had begun in earnest.


	2. Beginnings

Beginnings

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter

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September 23, The Ministry

Amelia Bones found herself in an unusual position. Her world had been invaded by muggles ... one of the greatest fears of purebloods everywhere, even the ones that weren't bigoted. Just to make things even more fun, they'd torn through the Ministry like it was made of wet parchment. And then, just when she was sure every fear they'd ever had was going to turn out to be true, Rupert Giles had sat her down and explained things, offering to help and cut through the crap she'd had to deal with for so long.

Amelia was rather famous for her impartiality and her no-nonsense attitude. She was also a pretty fair judge of character. She'd been mightily suspicious of this Giles character ... right until he'd offered his people to transport and back up her aurors in an attempt to keep Azkaban populated. That had not been the act of someone with malicious intentions.

And now, with a speed that had been rather stunning, their world was free, forever, of the greatest threat it had faced in the last hundred years or so. Even Grindlewald had not been so troublesome a wizard as Voldemort had become. Better, most of his supporters had been either killed or rooted out and tossed into holding cells.

That was the matter of concern Amelia was wrestling with today. The holes left in their government by the Council's removal of Fudge and marked followers of Voldemort. They would need to have to fill the Minister's position at least temporarily before they could hold trials for those who had been incarcerated.

The partying had died down to the point now where the various departments would respond to normal Ministry business, though perhaps not in the sober mien they normally did. She sent out a memo to everyone, indicating that a temporary Minister would have to be named, and for everyone to put in their nominations. She also asked them to make a note of whether anyone was missing from their department, and if they needed a replacement in order for their department to function smoothly.

She was not unaware of the fact that a good number of people would be inclined to nominate her, both because she was in the next highest seat of power in the Ministry and because, after the initial takeover, Giles and his people had stepped back, allowed her to make the calls and do what needed doing over the last ... sweet Merlin, had it really been less than two weeks? It didn't seem possible somehow. But she'd been the one most everyone looked to, and given a choice, they would likely wish that to continue.

With that in mind, she began to make a long, fairly detailed list of things she'd like to do if she was nominated to the Minister's seat. Trials for the Death Eaters, of course, and Dumbledore, though that one troubled her. She was none too sure the man could be fairly tried. There was entirely too much sentiment where Albus Dumbledore was involved for much of anyone to have a clear, unbiased mind. Repealing (or significantly altering) a number of laws was next on her list, laws that had troubled her from her days as a trainee. Recruiting for practically every department was next on her list, as she knew most of the departments were undermanned even before the Death Eaters among them had been snatched up. Ensuring the existing personnel were competent was next on the agenda.

In the end she had a rather intimidating scroll's worth of ideas and plans. It was enough to give her a headache, and she removed her monocle and rubbed at the bridge of her nose to ease the tension that had been creeping up on her. There was a knock on her door, and she sighed almost gratefully for the interruption. "Come in."

One of the trainees came in with a stack of parchment scraps. "The nominations, Director Bones." There was a small smile at the edges of his face as he handed the scraps over. Amelia leafed through them, and sure enough, she'd been nominated to the Minister chair until an election could be held next month. It was a challenge she looked forward to. And maybe, just maybe, she'd keep the spot. As much as she had loved being an auror, the chance to be Minister and actually fix (or try to) some of the wrongs in her world was a huge opportunity. Fudge had used his power to force some seriously stupid laws into effect ... it was high time someone used that power to fix what was broken. That she would doubtlessly have hardliners that would take a lot of convincing, fooling, or otherwise circumventing went without being said, but that would be half the fun.

She sent out yet more memos, informing the people that needed to know that the Death Eater trials would begin tomorrow. Dumbledore ... that one would wait until after the Death Eaters. He was, by all reports, safely contained where he was, which was more than she could honestly say for anywhere else that they could put him, thanks to his 'pet'. She very much wanted to know how the Council people had managed to arrange it so Fawkes could not rescue his master! So they could afford to leave him there and strike the Death Eaters while the iron was hot.

Giles knocked on her door a few minutes later, his memo in hand. "I see you've been appointed emergency Minister." He said. "Congratulations, and I hope you retain the position when it comes to a vote."

"Thank you, Mr. Giles. There is much to be done."

"Indeed. If you need my assistance with anything, do let me know, but otherwise, I and my people shall be staying to the shadows as much as we can."

That made Amelia laugh outright. "I sincerely doubt that, with that young man of yours being the man of the hour. Everyone will be wanting to seek you out and talk to you."

Giles sighed. "I was afraid of that. Xander has already been hiding from your press as much as he can. We are not much used to widespread notoriety anywhere but the demon world." Thankfully, most of the people in the Ministry building had been too scared to approach Giles and the girls, having seen what they were capable of directly, so they'd missed out on most of the chaos. Giles did not envy Xander one bit.

Amelia nodded. "So I'd heard. And too, some of us are going to be less than thrilled to let you hide because we're interested in some of your ... toys ... for lack of a better word. You and your people have some interesting skills that I for one have never seen before."

It went against everything Giles had been taught as a young Watcher to have an open information exchange with ... anyone. Have a contract that said they could come in and stomp anyone they needed to in the name of saving the world? Fine. Sharing information and secrets, no. But then, Giles was not your typical Watcher, and he'd seen where the old attitudes had gotten them.

"I'm sure something can be worked out, Madam Bones. I know several of my girls have been most impressed with some of your Aurors. Perhaps an exchange program of some kind?"

"Definitely a possibility. I'd have to talk to my people, and at least for now they'd have to remain available to us, since the aurors are still thin on the ground, but as you say, I'm sure something can be worked out." Amelia agreed.

September 23, Malfoy Manor

Narcissa Malfoy found herself in a most distressing position. Her husband was in jail, having been defeated while fighting in the name of Voldemort. This time, Narcissa knew, the chances of Lucius talking his way out of real trouble were nil. He would be jailed at the very least, possibly killed. She took small comfort indeed from the fact that he could not be Kissed.

Her own options were few. Stand with her husband and suffer his fate, or divorce herself from him as utterly as she could. It was fortunate indeed that she had never taken part in any of Lucius' manipulations in Voldemort's name. Oh, she had been aware of them, no mistake, but at the strata of society the Malfoys (and Blacks) inhabited, wives were more trophies to be possessed than they were people in their own right.

Except, of course, when they were Slytherins. And Blacks. Narcissa had, even as a young girl, too much pride and ambition to be an arm ornament, despite that her social standing demanded it. It had been an exercise in cunning, since she came of age, to act independently of her family's (and later Lucius') will.

Oh, she believed sincerely in the superiority of purebloods, make no mistake. But Blacks were slaves to no man, and the thought of becoming Voldemort's servant, even in name, had been abhorrent. Even more so as he got more and more unpredictable and deranged in the months before he attempted to kill Harry Potter for the first time. But she had kept her silence because Lucius had yoked himself to the man, and to speak out against him was to court death.

So, unable to speak out, she had gone behind Lucius' back and gotten her own vault. That had been the easy part. Filling the vault had taken a great deal more cunning and guile, as to be seen working would have blown her plans apart and invited Lucius' wrath. Fortunately, she had some small skill in potion-making, and as Lucius had benefited from her ability, had not gainsaid her when she continued to brew after they married. He was never allowed to discover that much of what she produced was sold in Knockturne Alley by an old friend of the family. Still, it had taken time for money to accumulate, given that she could not spend all the hours of the day brewing.

At this point, her vault had enough in it to support both herself and Draco, should the Malfoy coffers be seized. Better, since Lucius would be out of the picture, she could be more open about her potion-making, perhaps even sell her wares in Diagon Alley where she'd get a better price per vial. But that was only the financial end sorted. She would have to figure out what to do beyond ensuring they had money enough to live. Could she appeal to Sirius? As the sole surviving male Black, he was, by default, Lord Black, unless Orion Black had formally disowned him. She knew that Walburga had done so, but she had not the power to do so formally, as that power lay only with Lord Black, and she had no idea if Orion had done so before he died.

To be honest, appealing to Sirius was probably a very bad idea. He had made no bones in their youth about his extreme dislike for everything the Blacks stood for, and had outright hated Lucius. The chances that he would believe her protestations and allow her and her son the safety of the Black name once more were slim to none.

So that left her with dealing with all of this on her own. Well then. Quite the challenge, and one she relished. Fortunately, from the letter he had sent, Draco had possessed the wit to not involve himself in the battle, which made her position far less shaky. She could claim she had done all she could in her limited situation to protect herself and her son. Yes, done correctly, that would suit well indeed.

She gathered ink and parchment and carefully began to construct a letter. It was time to ensure both her and her son's survival in this mess.

September 23, Hogwarts

Daphne had started on Snape's extra assignment right away. She'd gotten most of her schoolwork done before everything exploded, so had only one fairly short essay to complete before Monday. The four-foot essay, though, would take some doing. She was not unaware of what Snape was trying to accomplish with the exercise. It was both a way to teach those who did not exercise it to use their brains, and to hammer home (yet again) the point that the road they had been traveling was a foolish one.

She wasn't the only one working on the essay, either. Once Snape had brought out the pensieve, practically everyone had gathered 'round, wanting to see the various accounts of the battle. There had been more than a good bit of sneering at 'Gryffindors', though to be fair, Daphne thought they deserved at least some of it. They'd pulled some foolish stunts. Imagine, getting into a fistfight with Bellatrix Lestrange! Or Fenrir Greyback! Of all the stupidities.

There'd been markedly less sneering at the girls ... the Slayers. They had moved with a deadly economy of movement and singularity of purpose, carving a wide swathe through the demonic creatures with seeming ease. For all the girls were muggles, they were rather a bit scary, and Daphne was deeply glad not to be on their bad side. Professor Harris, though, had garnered the most attention. The slayers were, after all, far stronger and faster than a normal muggle, by their own admission. Daphne mentally likened it to them being werewolves, minus the fur. But Professor Harris was an entirely different matter. He was a one-eyed 'pure' muggle, insofar as anyone knew. No enhancements whatever.

And he'd racked up a body count of demons nearly as large as any one Slayer's. No extra speed, no extra strength, no nothing ... just a (apparently) bloody-minded determination to win ... coupled with some truly, beautifully sneaky stunts to overcome his inherent limitations in what was otherwise a very unequal fight. Daphne was not the only one to spot Professor Harris' unique little ploys, not the least of which was managing to sneak up on none other than Voldemort completely unawares, and it generated a lot of discussion. These people, all of them, made it rather hard to dismiss muggles as insignificant beasts. Some of them, at least, possessed remarkable abilities.

That Professor Harris had more than a few of the markings of a true Slytherin, and was managing to be more Slytherin than many of the current House member, was shaking the hardliners badly. That muggles in general had proven themselves equal to magicals in a fight was worse, and even the moderates like herself were finding themselves surprised by it. Muggles had always been weak, stupid, inferior creatures to be pitied and ignored at best or hunted at worst, depending on your family. Here, they were presented with ironclad evidence that not all of them were such piteous creatures. If the thoughtful looks on several faces were anything to go by, Daphne was not the only one wanting to find out what else they'd been led to believe was false.

She shook off her musings and began writing again.


	3. Trials, Part 1

Trials, Part 1

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter

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September 24, Wizengamot

Courtroom ten was packed to the rafters. Everyone who could possibly come up with an excuse, and many who probably couldn't, but had come anyway were here, anticipating the trials of the eight death eaters. Two of whom had surrendered on the field of battle. There were four different sets of journalists that Amelia could see inside the room, and probably twice that many outside. The sheer level of noise as people vied for the best seats and gossiped was almost deafening.

"Order! Order!" She called out. For all the good it did. So she did it again, this time using a sonorous to ensure her voice carried. Even with that aid, it took a minute for everyone to quiet and settle into their seats. She nodded to Kingsley, who was acting as head of the DMLE until the vote next month. "Bring in the accused."

Kingsley turned and disappeared through a door, then came out moments later with one of the six Death Eaters caught in the Ministry purge and two additional aurors acting as guards. The man was escorted to the chair in the center of the room and secured in place with chains, and the two guards took up spots on either side of the chair to further discourage any shenanigans on the part of the accused.

The next few hours were tense ones, as the six Ministry personnel were interrogated. They had to resort to threatening the use of veritaserum to get anything out of four of them, as they'd clammed up. And then followed through on the threat to be sure what they were being told under duress was the truth. One of them, rather like Bellatrix had done many years ago, bragged about what they'd done, what they'd been willing to do, how they'd do it all again, and that Voldemort (despite all evidence, now confirmed, to the contrary) would return. In all five cases, they were wholly unrepentant.

The challenge came with the sixth man, Nott Sr. From the moment he was brought out, he was different from the others. The other five had all been either smug, visibly unrepentant, just plain blank-faced, or just this side of visibly barking mad. Nott came in with his head down and shoulders slumped, looking wholly ashamed. While Amelia, nor anyone else, if expressions were anything to go by, was willing to quite believe his apparent repentance and shame, it made for a nice change. He didn't clam up, made no attempt to claim he was anything but a death eater, but he claimed he'd been forced into it both by his father and circumstances. Once in, he'd been horrified, and promptly done as little as he could manage to get away with, since attempting to defect was a rather good way to commit suicide. Once Voldemort had gone, he'd done what he could to keep his son from following in his footsteps.

That his son had been one of the Slytherin children to fight to defend Hogwarts went far to legitimize his claims. That he showed honest remorse, or was one of the best actors Amelia had ever seen, which, she admitted to herself, was not impossible, also helped. That he submitted to veritaserum without demure, and repeated the same story when questioned cemented it. Debate raged amongst the Wizengamot for a solid three hours as they hashed out what to do. The first five were rather swiftly sentenced to death, having been guilty of numerous atrocities that turned everyone's stomach. Nott, though, was a more difficult case. That the times had doubtlessly put a lot of pressure on everyone was not debated. That most Slytherins, almost all of whom were from pureblood families, would have felt the pressure the most keenly, was not debated either. What was debated was what exactly Nott had done when he 'joined and kept his head down', compared to the other five's outright enjoyment and one-upsmanship of atrocities.

In the end, they went back and interrogated all of them with veritaserum again, asking specifically after who was at each event, and who did what. Nott was absent or standing around as opposed to participating in fully half of the events, and the times he did participate, he at least attempted to do the least amount of damage possible. Eventually, after further debate, it was decided to spare Nott's life, instead incarcerating him for life in Azkaban. He had still perpetrated crimes, after all. He was simply a bit better off than the rest as he recognized that what he had done was wrong, and regretted it.

After that, the real circus began. Goyle and Malfoy Sr., the sole survivors of the attack on Hogwarts.

Amelia wasn't the only one having a hard time not cracking up (many actually failed to keep straight faces) when Lucius almost immediately tried to claim Imperius. Like he really thought that trick would work twice? Actually, come to think of it, if Fudge had still been Minister, it would have. Despite the fact that it was completely impossible to fight at all effectively under Imperius. Throw a single hex, yes. Maybe even two or three. Survive the mayhem that had been the battle at Hogwarts? Not a chance. Which rather frightened Amelia, and made her glad Fudge was out of power. And due for his own trial tomorrow, on charges of just about everything save being a marked Death Eater.

As they went through the evidence against Lucius, she was not quite prepared to see Narcissa Malfoy standing witness against her own husband. After a bit of further consideration, she decided that it really shouldn't have surprised her. Narcissa was, after all, both a Slytherin and a Black. There was no way someone like that would go down if there was any way to prevent it.

The entirety of the courtroom listened in horrified awe as Narcissa enumerated her husband's many crimes, the least of which were bribing and/or blackmailing an elected official (the Minister, no less). It just got worse from there. Inevitably, the question had to be asked.

"If you were aware of all this, why did you not speak out?" Amelia asked.

"And when would I have done that?" Narcissa wanted to know. "When Voldemort was alive and would murder me for it? After he was dead, when Crouch and Fudge were in Lucius' back pocket and Lucius would have bought his way free of any attempt to bring charges against him, then turn his wrath on myself and my son? No, Madam Minister, there was no chance for me to speak out without myself and my son suffering dire consequences." An expression of very real anger crossed her face. "I very nearly killed Lucius myself when I discovered what he'd done Draco's second year. Loosing a monster on a schoolful of children, with no control over it? Draco could have been a victim as easily as any other child!" She shook her head. "Perhaps if there had been a Lord Black, I could have applied for aid and sanctuary for myself and my son and been able to survive the fallout, but there was none. Thanks in large part to the people Lucius was paying to turn a blind eye to his illegal activities."

It didn't take long to convict a nearly apoplectic Lucius and sentence him to death. Goyle, rather like Nott, proved to be a slight bit trickier. He was a fairly simple man, prone to just following orders and not giving any great thought to whether what he was doing was right or wrong or even legal. It became fairly obvious early on that Lucius had taken ruthless advantage of Goyle's lack of discernment . How he and his son got into Slytherin, of all Houses, would forever remain a mystery to Amelia. The decision was made, eventually, to spare Goyle's life. He, like Nott, would be spending the rest of his days in Azkaban.

All eight were stripped of the majority of their assets. Their wives and children were left a home to live in and enough money to live on, but everything else was confiscated, to be redistributed amongst their surviving victims and the government's coffers, to fund the rebuilding that would be necessary. The court session broke up and everyone headed out after the convicts were escorted out of the room. Goyle and Nott were put back in the holding cells until they could be transferred to Azkaban later that day. The others were immediately escorted to the Veil. Amelia somewhat regretted not getting a chance to toss one of them through herself, but ultimately decided that whatever brief moment of pleasure she'd have gotten wouldn't have been worth it in the end.

September 24, Hogwarts

The day of the trials might have been causing mayhem in the larger wizarding world, but in Hogwarts, it marked the re-starting of the 'normal' school year. Heh. Normal. If you wanted to call it that.

History of Magic, it was swiftly decided by everyone, had never been more fun. Sirius had a natural flair for the dramatic, and watching him stalk around the front of the room, hands waving and in many cases acting bits out (with voices, even), was at the very least a heck of a lot more entertaining than Binns had ever been. And definitely a good deal more memorable, too.

The real shock, for Harry, had been Potions. Always, that had been the greatest trial of all his classes, with Snape breathing down his neck. There hadn't really been much in the way of classes after Umbridge, what with preparing for the coming fight and everyone being so busy and/or distracted, so Harry was caught by surprise when Snape didn't even sneer at him, nevermind verbally rip him a new one.

The real shock, though, was when Neville (yet again) completely messed up the potion they were supposed to be doing within the first two steps. When Snape swooped down on Neville, everyone braced for Snape's usual vitriol.

"Mr. Longbottom." Snape purred. "I would be interested in discovering what, precisely, your difficulty in my class is. You are, apparently, quite a gifted herbologist, yet here, that knowledge and ability seems to utterly evade you."

Harry wasn't the only one blinking slightly at Snape, because unless he'd completely misread what Snape had just said, which, given it was Snape they were talking about, was so very, painfully possible, Snape was slightly obliquely offering to help not just a Gryffindor, but one of his worst and most often targeted for nasty commentary, students. And unless Harry was much mistaken, there was even a compliment in there somewhere.

Neville's slightly gobsmacked look faded into a vaguely stuttered. "I ... just get nervous."

This confession seemed to amuse the hell out of Snape, who just had to be aware of what, exactly, Neville's problem was. There was just no way in heck Snape hadn't heard about Neville's boggart. Not with half the student body laughing their asses off at 'Snape in a vulture hat and dress' for a good week afterward. "Surely, Mr. Longbottom, the young man who was capable of beating Bellatrix Lestrange unconscious with his bare hands has nothing to fear from a mere teacher?" Snape asked.

Now the entirety of the class was staring, because that sounded an awful lot like Snape teasing Neville. Harry was beginning to think he might need to send for Xander if this kept up. It was more than slightly unnerving, seeing Snape be almost ... human. The rest of the class just took a turn for the surreal.

Snape spent the entire rest of the class doing something he hadn't done in the last four years ... actually teaching. Oh, he was still sarcastic, snappish and really strict, but the put-downs and completely biased favoritism were just ... gone. He pointed out the especially tricky bits of the potion, gave pointers on the prep ... just, everything he'd never done before. By the end of class, everyone had managed to produce a serviceable (if not perfect) potion, and Harry was wondering if it was actually someone polyjuiced as Snape, rather than the actual man, because the entire class had just been that odd.

Escaping to DADA was a relief. Divination had been cancelled for pretty much everyone. Harry didn't think anyone had made the cut as an actual 'seer' for Trelawney to train up. Extra DADA classes had been scheduled to fill the gap, a very real necessity for pretty much everyone in the castle given the previous crappy instruction in the subject. The 'extra' class turned out to have more than one year attending, and, since Hagrid had returned and was able to take over the CoMC classes again, Xander had apparently elected to assist Remus with the extra classes.

They spent the entire class talking about some of the demons that had been seen in the battle, discussing their strengths, weaknesses, and a fair bit of how they worked among themselves, whether they were loners or worked in family groups or whatever. Xander announced that a friend of theirs, a demon from a peaceful species, would be coming in the next week to talk about some of the less aggressive species of demons. That caused a good bit of interest with pretty much everyone.

"And if you guys ask nicely, Spike might even do a class on vampires." Xander added with a grin. "And how vampiric society works, though you probably better take any tales he tells of me and my friends with a grain of salt. He likes to ... embellish ... just a bit."

That got a laugh, especially from Harry and Hermione, both of whom had heard Spike-tales before.


	4. Trials, Part 2

Trials, Part 2

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

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September 25, Hogwarts

The next day was the scheduled trial for Fudge and Dumbledore. Moving Dumbledore, and ensuring he could not escape, was a rather intensive affair, so Willow, Agnes, and three other witches had arrived at dawn to act as wranglers. Xander, Harry, Hermione and Ron would all be standing witness against him. The Hogwarts Heads of Houses, Pomphrey, Sirius and Remus were all testifying as well, though there'd been some creative scheduling to allow it and keep the classes running as they ought.

Xander, with Willow at his side, opened the door to Dumbledore's Hogwarts cell. "Rise and shine, whiskers. Time to face the music."

Dumbledore regarded him serenely and didn't say anything, merely getting to his feet and approaching the door. Willow started muttering under her breath before he got more than one step in, and by the time Dumbledore reached the door, the ward or spell or whatever it was Willow had done to keep Dumbledore where they put him detached from the room and wrapped around Dumbledore in a faintly visible greenish oval bubble. Xander eyed him. "Just keep walking, whiskers. You're not getting out of that bubble anytime soon."

"I am quite eager to explain matters to the Wizengamot. I am sure they will understand that things had to be done the way they were done." Dumbledore said.

Xander was so very glad it was just him, Willow, and the ladies from the coven here to escort him. He was fairly sure that calm, bald-faced comment would have seen practically everyone else lunging for Dumbledore's throat. As it was, Willow was eyeing Dumbledore like she wanted to hit him, a sentiment Xander sympathized with. He pointedly pushed the man in the small of the back to get him walking. The bubble prevented him from apparating and kept Fawkes from grabbing him, but did not stop anything else from reaching in there, to allow for the application of veritaserum later, among other things. Dumbledore seemed inclined to stroll, but Xander was having none of that, repeatedly prodding the man every time he slowed up. After the third time, he glowered. "Next time, I poke with the sharp end of my axe." He threatened. Dumbledore gave him a sad, pitying, disapproving look for the threat, but he did move faster.

This promised to be a long, long day.

September 25, Ministry

If the previous day's trials had packed the courtroom to the rafters, then today's trial of Fudge and Dumbledore, which promised to be a long, drawn out and rather painful affair, had Amelia wondering if someone had used a temporary expansion charm to fit everyone inside the room. This time, it wasn't just gossip that had everyone talking. There was more than one person outright calling for blood in regards to Fudge, a sentiment Amelia could wholeheartedly understand, and a nearly equal number had dissolved into distressed tears over the possibility of Dumbledore not being the saint everyone thought him to be.

This time, the call for order took a good five minutes to take effect, even with the use of a sonorous. Once Amelia got them settled, Kingsley and two guards brought in Fudge.

The trial quickly took on a rather creepy note, as even under veritaserum, Fudge seemed to think that what he had done was right. And the list of things he'd done was ... more than slightly horrifying. Lucius, it was discovered, had been far from the first or only person to grease Fudge's palms in order to get him to turn a blind eye. He was also a horrifying bigot that would not have been out of place amongst the death eaters, and evidently taken a perverse pleasure in ratifying completely unjust laws that made the lives of anyone not a pureblood a misery.

He'd authored many of the stupid laws currently on the books, and several that were unenforcable or contradicted previous laws. He'd done everything he could to stall or block various reforms, like Arthur Weasley's Muggle protection laws, among others. He'd been responsible for the gutting of the Auror and DMLE department budgets, both for existing officers and training, and the nepotistic, pureblood-only friendly hiring policies forced on every Ministry department.

Amelia found herself unexpectedly grateful for Dumbledore's stubborn intransigence when Fudge started talking about Hogwarts. He had done everything he could think of to gain control of Hogwarts and thereby control what the upcoming generations learned, and from whom. Here, he'd run into serious opposition, as Dumbledore had clearly disapproved of anyone messing about in 'his' territory. Fudge had managed to have a few successes however, mostly via controlling what got written into books, and what books were available for possible use in classes, including jailing insistent would-be new authors on trumped-up charges if they refused to write according to Fudge's decrees. It had worked, too. The Muggle Studies class had been forced to use information that was some fifty or sixty years out of date at best, and History of Magic's textbooks were hugely biased, so that even if Binns hadn't been there to completely disinterest the children in history, they'd never have gotten an honest look at what had happened in the past.

In short, the man might as well have had a Dark Mark on his arm.

Things got interesting fast when Voldemort was mentioned. Despite the fact that Voldemort had been seen by practically every school-aged child in the wizarding world, most of Hogwarts' teachers and many of the survivors of Hogsmeade, Fudge was still, under veritaserum, claiming Voldemort had died for real the first time, and had never come back. The howls of outrage that brought on nearly lifted the roof straight off the courtroom.

Fudge's fate was rather swiftly decided, given the mass of evidence against him. He was sentenced to life in Azkaban by the narrowest of margins, as many people wanted to see him dead for his crimes. He was dragged away still protesting his innocence.

Then, Kingsley and the two guards brought in Dumbledore. Amelia did a double take at the greenish bubble around him.

"Auror Kingsley, what spell is that?" She wanted to know.

"I do not know, Madam Minister. The earth witch Willow Rosenberg did this, to ensure that the accused could not escape, given that he has a phoenix for a familiar." Kingsley told her.

"Indeed. She is scheduled as a witness?"

"Yes, Madam."

"Then we shall inquire as to her means of containment at that time." Amelia really, really wanted some of the Council's toys, if they could pull this off.

And so veritaserum was applied and the questioning began. And very shortly thereafter, so did the horrified silence. Because Dumbledore's sins didn't even come close to starting with Harry.

They started with Grindlewald. Dumbledore admitted to still believing in pureblood supremacy, and to subtly strengthening that cause while still appearing to be a friend to Muggleborns and Muggles. He'd only opposed Grindlewald when the man started killing indiscriminately. Such, Dumbledore proclaimed, was not the way to win the fight for the fate of the wizarding world. There was a better way. And the truly frightening thing was, Dumbledore had come to within a whisker of being right.

Dumbledore's great plan had started a year before he defeated Grindlewald, when pure chance put him in the path of one of the few phoenixes still known to exist just as it was rising again from its ashes. Using the phoenix's temporarily weakened state against it, combined with his own powerful Legilimency, Dumbledore forced a bond on the creature, and then to ensure it did not stray, gathered up every speck of the ashes left behind in its stony nest. Dumbledore knew phoenixes had to return to their nest, their ashes, in order to be reborn. He'd gone on to reinforce the forced bond every time Fawkes had a burning day. And since no one would ever dream of attempting to force a phoenix in such a manner, it never occurred to anyone that it was even possible, so Dumbledore's new 'pet' gave him the appearance of being a true champion of the Light, as everyone knew a phoenix did not bond to any but the Lightest of wizards and witches.

To say this enraged the people watching was the biggest understatement ever.

From there, Dumbledore planned his rise as the ruler of the wizarding world with great care. He met with Grindlewald and, when the man slept, stole his wand, knocked him out and locked him up. Then he sought out certain people and implanted in them memories of a spectacular fight. He sought out his old teachers and Ministry testers and implanted memories of him being far more clever at magic than he really had been at the time. Between the two, and Fawkes' presence, he was soon being hailed as the Leader of the Light.

About the only good news was that while Dumbledore'd been vaguely suspicious of young Tom Riddle, he hadn't had any real idea just how broken the boy really was. That said, as soon as he was named Headmaster, Dumbledore began his campaign to mold the wizarding world in the image he wanted.

Slytherin was subtly vilified, and Gryffindor praised. Binns kept on because he put kids to sleep, rather than interest them in history or teach them about it, thus blinding more and more generations to what had really happened. Certain other courses' books as chosen by the teachers were heavily slanted in certain directions. And the DADA curse was permitted to remain, despite Dumbledore having the power to break it, as it served his purposes, allowing him to choose pitiful teachers and thus gut the ability of future generations to defend themselves.

He'd pretended to fight for equal rights for Muggleborns and Half-bloods, then given mournful looks and blamed the extremists when the pureblood-friendly laws passed. Despite being named head of the Wizengamot and the International Confederation, Dumbledore never once used that power to oppose injustice towards Muggles, Muggleborns, or Halfbloods.

Then things got worse. He'd known Hagrid was innocent, and never did anything, despite having had the power to call for a real trial, given that Hagrid had been a victim of 'he's clearly guilty, so let's snap his wand', and never had a trial. Instead, he'd manipulated Hagrid by giving him a job at Hogwarts and doing the 'I wish I could help but this is the best I can do' dance.

He'd also been aware of multiple cases of Muggleborns or Muggle-raised halfbloods being abused at home, and done nothing to help them. Had been aware of vicious hazing on the part of more than one group of Gryffindors against Slytherins, and just stood by.

He'd used Voldemort and his campaign to his own advantage as well, hamstringing those that followed him by encouraging the use of stunners only. The results on the Order, which had been largely halfblood and Muggleborn, combined with poor education for decades prior, had been rather predictable. It'd been an easy way to thin the Muggleborn population a bit.

And then there's what he'd pulled on Harry. Deliberately going against the Potters' Will, ensuring Sirius never got a trial, allowing Harry to be abused and forcing him to return to an abusive home every year, not to mention the shenanigans Dumbledore had pulled at Hogwarts while Harry was there.

By the time Dumbledore wound down, there wasn't a person in the courtroom that wasn't howling for the old bastard's blood. Xander was deeply grateful Spike wasn't here, as he wasn't entirely sure he'd have been able to stop Spike from draining Dumbledore dry. Or if he'd even have wanted to try to stop Spike. As it was, he and Sirius spent most of the time with Harry huddled between them looking horrified and completely miserable.

The debate on what to do with Dumbledore was sharp, but rather short. The only thing anyone was worried about was what shoving Dumbledore through the Veil would do to Fawkes. Eventually, it was decided to lock Dumbledore away until after Fawkes' next burning day, which would be sometime in November. At that point, Fawkes, able to be reborn away from Dumbledore, would be free of the forced bond (they hoped) and there would be no danger to the phoenix when Dumbledore got shoved through the Veil.

In order to ensure Dumbledore had no chance of escape in the meantime, he was remanded into the care of the Council, who were enjoined to ensure he remained a captive wherever they put him, because, as Amelia put it.

"There are those in our world who would seek to see him free, even now, believing all this to be lies. And there are, now, quite a number who would be only too happy to see him dead. As such, our ability to incarcerate him is ... suspect ... at best."

September 25, Location Unknown

Four hours after Dumbledore's sentence was handed down, Xander, Willow, Giles and Faith arrived at what would be Dumbledore's cell until Fawkes' burning day. It was a small, very isolated cottage that had been stripped of ... pretty much everything. There was a cot, with blanket and pillow, and a chair to sit in, and that was it. The cabin had been surrounded by Willow's anti-escape bubble, among other spells designed to keep Dumbledore in the cottage, and keep the cottage from being seen or found by anyone or anything except Winky. Winky had agreed to be bound to Sirius, and had been given the job of bringing food to Dumbledore once a day, and cleaning the cottage once a week. She was expressly forbidden to communicate with Dumbledore in any way, as well as communicating, in any way, the location of the cottage to anyone. She was also expressly forbidden to bring anything into the cottage except food, even if Dumbledore hurt himself. If that happened, she was to inform Sirius immediately, and it'd be taken care of at that point.

That done, everyone left, leaving Dumbledore to his isolation.


	5. Making Friends

Making Friends

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

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September 27, Hogwarts

The 'extra' Defense Against the Dark Arts class was packed out today, a fact that made Faith grin. Not that she really blamed the kids ... after all, they'd spent the better part of a month hanging out with a vampire, and two weeks hanging out with one Slayer or another. More than long enough for them to notice that Spike was ... not your typical vamp, and for those that knew more than that Slayers existed to realize the Slayers were ... different ... than the books said.

There was also the fact, at least for the older boys, that they'd heard she would be there. Faith had had more fun than she knew what to do with over the last two weeks. Most of the boys ... even the so-called Muggleborns, couldn't help but stare, but the purebloods were fucking hysterically funny. They'd clearly never seen a girl strutting her stuff wearing the sorts of clothes Faith preferred to wear, and they couldn't seem to figure out whether to be completely scandalized or totally smitten. Either way, they were funny as hell. Even the adults didn't seem to know how to handle her, for the most part. Well, except for two of them.

Sirius alternated between playfully flirting with her and appreciating the mayhem she sowed among the kids just by existing. Faith had no idea if he was serious with the flirting, either, because he always had a glint in his eye that said he was up to no good. At any rate, he didn't have problems sparring with her verbally in the least. The other one who didn't have a problem with her one way or another was Moody. He didn't give a damn what she looked like. All he cared about was whether or not she could kick ass and take names, and since she was well covered in that area, that was good enough for him.

Once the last of the kids had arrived, Spike stepped forward. "Right sprats, time to shut up and listen. Vamp 101's about to start."

Faith glanced over at where Xander was standing, leaning against a wall next to an amused looking Remus, and the two of them shared an equally amused look. Unsurprisingly, everyone quieted down pretty fast. After all, testing a vampire's temper was ... not the smartest thing to do. Especially when you'd seen what said vampire was capable of when it came to fighting.

"Right. First thing's first. There's three different sorts of vampires. Minions, childer, and Masters. Minions are the ones you'll see the most of." Spike said. "They're dumb shits, no brain to speak of, and while they're faster and stronger than a human, it's not by all that much, and a well-prepared human can kill 'em without too many problems. Childer are the next step up ... they're smarter, stronger, faster, and harder to kill ... a really fucking lucky human might manage it, but generally, only a Slayer can deal with childer. Then there's Masters. They're the smartest, strongest, and hardest to kill. They also are the bosses of the vampire world. Minions and childer bow to their wills and curry favor with 'em."

"What makes the difference between the three." Spike continued. "Is blood, plain and simple. A minion gets only a sip of their sire's blood. Just enough to turn the victim, but that's it. Minions can and have become childer, if they survive long enough or prove to have a skill their sire finds useful ... the sire just feeds 'em more of his own blood, but it's not usually done, because minions are basically canon fodder. Childer get more blood when they're turned, and continue to get it, off and on, from their sire. At some point, usually after a century or so, the childer will be strong enough to strike out on their own and become Masters in their own right."

"Vampires generally work in family groups ... a Master, who's also sire to the rest of the group, one or more childer, and a handful or so of minions or even un-turned humans to do stuff that can only be done during the day. Some families get pretty big, with several Masters and their entourages, but that tends to get messy, as the Masters end up fighting each other a lot to determine who's in charge. Y'do get vampires who're Master level but prefer to be on their own, and the entire vampire chain of command goes tits up rather spectacularly on the hellmouth ... that's nothing but minions who make more minions, and at one time, a batshit crazy Master, but he got staked about a year after Her Blondeness got to Sunnydale, and after that, it was pretty much just minion central."

Of course, Angel and he had been there, but neither of them had been worried about more than their own asses. They'd neither of them wanted anything to do with becoming the Master of the Hellmouth, even though the original Master had been the head of their line. Plus, they'd both actively been hunting vampires and demons, which had put them both at odds with the demon community. If you could call the collection of psychopaths and crazies the hellmouth attracted a community.

"Of course, sometimes you get oddballs." Xander said, sounding amused. "Spike, for instance. He managed to reach Master status at about the age of fifty ... a lot younger than is normal ... and without his sire anywhere in sight, because Angel got himself cursed by gypsies and ran off. Then, after he came to Sunnydale, Spike decided he preferred for humankind to keep existing, so he started helping Buffy, Willow and I kick ass and take names."

Oh, there was more to the story than that, of course, but it was basically the truth. Xander may not have trusted Spike as far as he could throw him back then, but there was no escaping the fact that Spike didn't have to fight on the side of the good guys. He'd been more than clever and resourceful enough to figure out a way to survive despite the handicap of the chip. Besides, telling people that invariably got Xander a death-glare, because even now, Spike disliked being called a white hat of any variety. Xander took his amusement where he could get it, and this sort of thing was his (admittedly petty) revenge against Spike's various stunts.

And there went the death-glare now. Xander snickered in amusement. "Hey, it's not my fault it's the truth."

"Pet, you're asking for an ass-kicking." Spike warned, though he didn't sound anywhere near as mad as he looked.

Xander gave Spike a wolfish grin. "Bring it." He taunted. Oh, Spike could kick his ass, no question, but Xander took great pride in the fact that Spike never walked away from their bouts undamaged.

The kids, of course, watched all of this with a mix of horror and fascination. Remus, the spoilsport, decided to break it up before things got bloody. "Perhaps you should continue, Spike?"

Spike glowered at Remus a moment, then nodded and turned his attention back to the class.

September 27, Ministry

"Welcome, everyone, to this gathering of the Wizengamot." Amelia Bones said, greeting the gathered men and women. "We are here today to begin reviewing the laws currently on the books. Speaking as the DMLE head I was until recently, I can say this review is sorely needed. There are a stunning number of laws on the books that make no sense whatever, and need to be abolished."

"Laws like what?" A suspicious-sounding male voice called.

"Hmmm ... how about the law passed in 1273 that makes it illegal to not wear a hat?" Amelia offered.

More than one person blinked in surprise at that.

"Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen ... if I win the election next month, there will be a review of all laws. Right now, however, I'll settle for ridding the books of the laws that are stupidly outdated or make no sense." She waved her wand, and copies of the law book appeared in front of everyone. "We will be meeting daily for the foreseeable future in order to deal with this mess."

They got started, with the very first page, going over everything, looking for outdated and silly laws that just needed to be abolished. Amelia, having done her homework, was able to guide them to most of the to-be-abolished laws, but a few keen-eyed Wizengamot members spotted ones that she'd missed in her (admittedly hurried) perusal. Around about the fifth law governing how human slaves and servants were permitted to act, and what they could wear, the complaints about doing this stopped ... because the wizarding world hadn't had human slaves and servants for a very, very long time. It was, in point of fact, now illegal to have a human slave at all, and people who could afford or needed a servant used house elves. Clearly, there were laws on the books that were outdated as hell.

Around about ridiculous law number fifteen (this one decreeing that women could not wear red), amused, exasperated commentary about their ancestors began to accompany the discovery of each silly law. Amelia made no attempt to stop it. Heck, half the time, she was right there with the rest of them with the amused exasperation. She really didn't know what their ancestors had been drinking to pass some of these laws.

By the time they'd wrapped up for the day, they'd abolished some thirty laws, almost equally divided between 'outdated' and 'silly'. There was more than a little animated discussion about what they'd find in the coming days, as they culled the law books. Amelia was fairly sure she heard bets being made as to what they'd find. Given how long the British wizarding world had been around, they had a lot more ground to cover before they were anywhere near done, but it was a good start.

September 30, Hogwarts

Harry was currently discovering the benefits of having both Sirius and Remus in the castle teaching. To whit ... being able to hang out in their quarters and spend time with them, getting to know them. Granted, he'd spent most of the summer with them, but they'd been so concentrated on learning everything they could in preparation for the upcoming year and anticipated battles that there'd been little time for relaxation and just hanging out.

The three of them were currently in Sirius' quarters. Remus was sitting at Sirius' desk, working on correcting and grading a last few essays from the DADA class, while Sirius was chattering animatedly at a dictaquill, working on ideas for his upcoming classes.

Harry was rather surprised by how into being a teacher Sirius seemed to be. He really seemed to enjoy teaching, even when it meant dealing with essays. Of course, Harry figured it helped a little that the class was History, and Sirius was on a mission to make the class as fun as possible, as an antidote to Binns. He'd managed to convince a few of the resident ghosts to come in and talk about the eras they had lived in, what they'd seen and done. It made for interesting classes, that was to be certain. Reading about history was one thing ... hearing about it from someone who had been there was something else entirely. And Sirius filled in the gaps around the ghosts' tales. His current project, judging by what he was dictating, was something about reenacting some battle or other, evidently as accurately as they could, and challenge the students to see if there was a way things could have come out differently than they had. Which sounded like a lot of fun, if Harry was honest.

Honestly, all the classes had improved, mostly thanks to access to newer, better materials and books. According to Hermione, the Muggle Studies class had improved ten thousandfold, now that the teacher not only had access to information about current Muggle technology and society, but an assistant who'd lived in the Muggle world all their lives ... and was, in point of fact, a Muggle themselves. Other classes had improved as well, though to lesser degrees.

By far the most amusing improvement was in Potions. At this point, half the castle was wondering if Snape was actually Snape, and if so, exactly what the hell Willow and Xander had done to him to cause such a change in the man's teaching methods and demeanor. Especially since Snape seemed to be coming down on his own House with the heavy end of the hammer. Harry didn't know details, but he'd seen Snape swooping down on more than one Slytherin miscreant, and rumor had it he was giving the entire House extra homework assignments.

Whatever he was doing ... it was actually having an effect. Even Draco seemed to have decided to sit down, shut up, and not make trouble. Only a couple of the oldest remaining Slytherins were still being fractious. As if that wasn't enough, Snape had stopped being a complete, remorseless bastard to anyone not Slytherin. Oh, he was still grouchy, prickly, and very much intolerant of incompetence, but if you did well in his class, it was acknowledged, no matter what House you were in. Granted, mostly by him leaving you alone, but that was an improvement over what usually happened.

Finally, both men finished what they were working on, and put things away. Sirius plopped down in the chair next to Harry and grinned at him. "Right. So ... folks been all right?"

"Yeah. Everyone here mostly leaves me alone." Harry said, infinitely grateful for that fact. "I know I'm probably going to get swarmed out of school, but at least this time someone other than me will get the worst of it." And Harry was not at all guilty about throwing Xander under that particular bus. He really didn't want people fawning over him.

Sirius laughed. "You have a point there." He agreed. "Remus and I were thinking of checking out Potter Mansion come Halloween. Figured you might want away from here for that."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that would be ... nice. And now Voldemort's gone, we can live there, so we really need to find out what sort of shape it's in."

"Hopefully it won't be too bad." Remus said from his spot by the desk. "I know some of the house elves survived the battle that trashed the place. In the absence of any other orders, they would have done their best to repair the damage."

"What's it like?" Harry wanted to know.

"It's a grand big place." Remus said. "I spent the summers there most years. Your dad insisted. And Sirius hung out there nearly every summer as well, he only missed part of the summer after first year."

"Yeah, well, Walburga and Orion were complete bastards to me when I went home. Thank god for Dorea. She was more than happy to allow me to live there."

"Dorea?" Harry asked.

"Your grandmother. She was born Dorea Black ... a cousin of mine." Sirius explained. "The family was not happy with her when she married Charlus, your grandfather."

Harry laughed. "I just bet." He said.

"Anyway, Dorea was more or less family, and when I showed up asking if I could stay, she convinced Charlus. At least that first year. After that, he didn't have a problem with me staying." Sirius said. "And didn't even blink when Remus confessed about being a werewolf."

"I wish I could have known them." Harry said with a sigh.

"Well, you can, sort of. They have portraits at the mansion." Sirius pointed out. "It's not quite the same as knowing the real person, but it's a not-half-bad second choice."


	6. Slytherin Minds

Slytherin Minds

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Anapneo is the canon 'clear the airway' spell. Custodiant Spirans is a made-up spell (Keep Breathing) that works like a respirator, keeping the patient's lungs working.

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October 7, Hogwarts

The Ministry wasn't the only authority going through an overhaul. Xander may have put bandaids on the worst of the problems Hogwarts had when he took over, but Minerva was determined to bring the school back to its former glory as the best school of its kind. To that end, she'd summoned the entire staff for a meeting. Once the last stragglers had arrived, Minerva stood up.

"Thank you, everyone, for coming. We're here for two reasons ... the first, to go through Hogwarts' rules and ensure they are relevant and non-contradictory, and to discuss additions and changes to the curriculum and security measures for next year. We'll be meeting once a week until we're done with the rules, but I don't anticipate that taking very long ... perhaps to the end of the year. Hogwarts' rulebook is remarkably short."

Across from her, Severus got an expression on his face that had Minerva torn between amusement and alarm. Mostly because Severus had been ... well, far more open of late with his expressions, and it was disconcerting to actually 'see' that Machiavellian mind working. She'd always known he was devious and clever, of course, but he'd long since mastered keeping his face blank even when his mind went into overdrive, so there'd never been any visible indication that he was up to something.

They went through the first bits of the rulebook, which, much to Minerva's relief, didn't actually need any revisions. Evidently, the earliest Headmasters had seen fit to stick to what the Founders had laid down. Minerva had no illusions of that continuing as they got further along, however. Once they'd had about an hour of scanning through, she opened the floor to discussions about the curriculum and security.

"I need either an assistant, or a second fully qualified teacher." Severus said. "Classes of up to fifty children may not be much of a problem for Transfiguration or Charms, but they're a nightmare in Potions, where the slightest mistake can ... and frequently has ... led to explosions or toxic gasses. Contrary to popular belief, I cannot be everywhere at once, nor do I have eyes in the back of my head."

Minerva nodded. "That is a valid point. If you have anyone in mind as an assistant or second teacher, let me know. Otherwise, I'll start looking for someone." She frowned slightly. "And that brings up a similar point. The double classes. Granted, we need to ensure the Houses have some interaction, but the double classes, I think, are a problem for everyone." She got agreeing nods from nearly all the teachers. "So we're going to have to come up with a solution to that."

Charity spoke up. "I've said it before, and I'll say it even louder now. Muggle Studies needs to be compulsory for wizard-raised children."

"And we need a similar class on the Wizarding world for the Muggleborn and raised." Severus said. "That's what started the problem with the purebloods ... the people coming into our world knowing nothing about it and trampling all over everything. I will grant that there are a great many things about our world that could change, and perhaps need to, but there are other things ... " He trailed off.

Minerva pursed her mouth, but again admitted that Severus had a point. Certain things that were done or believed in the wizarding world were that way for a very good, valid reason, and unfortunately-ignorant muggleborns had repeatedly tried to change those things in the past. "A valid point." She said. "Very well, we'll figure something out for that before next year. Anything else immediately come to mind?"

She got a round of headshakes. "Very well. I'd like you to begin thinking about things. I'm sure we can all come up with ideas over the next weeks. I'll not keep you any longer today, as I'm quite aware we all have work to do."

That got her more than a few grins, and everyone headed out.

Slytherin Dorms

Severus was pleased. The future was ... looking much better. Minerva seemed determined to turn Hogwarts around. Better, she actually listened, which was something of a revelation after Dumbledore. Faugh, that man! Severus shook his head.

An assistant or two would be a godsend in his classes. He already had some people in mind ... specifically, a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff, both seventh years currently, and in his NEWT class. Either of them would be ideal as an assistant, as both of them were careful and methodical in their work, and had a history of catching and correcting the mistakes of their partners and the others in their immediate vicinity. Better, neither of them had been terrified of him. Wary and respectful, but not terrified.

He swept into the badly-denuded Slytherin common room, mentally cursing Dumbledore yet again. He would always wonder just how many of the children currently missing he could have saved if Dumbledore hadn't been so obstructionist. The remnants of Slytherin House were all waiting for him, since he'd warned them he'd be meeting with them today.

"Your essays." He began. "Were ... interesting." And he wasn't being at all sarcastic about that. Seeing the Hogwarts Battle from their perspectives (as they'd watched all the memories), had been ... quite educational. "You have all had a chance to peruse the memories of the battle at your leisure. I will now open the floor to any questions you may have had that were not germane to the assignment you were given."

"Sir?" One of the first years asked. "I just ... how is it possible for a vampire to be ... not evil?"

Severus sighed. "That question, I cannot answer, as neither the Council members among us nor Spike himself has seen fit to explain it. I would imagine there is quite the story behind it." There had to be. Vampires just weren't good guys. And Severus still flat-out refused to believe that Spike had a soul. That was just pure nonsense.

"The stuff we've seen ... what's her name again ... " A second year started, frowning a moment. "Ahhh, Willow, that's it ... the stuff we've seen her doing ... is earth magic really that much stronger than our kind?"

Severus snorted. "The answer is yes and no, from what I have seen. Miss Rosenberg is, I will grant, incredibly powerful, but she seems to be somewhat limited in her range of spells. They all fit into rather broad categories ... that is, destruction of things, by fire, explosion, or some other very destructive means, the earth magic version of teleportation, and I have been informed that she has some small skill with potions." Plus, of course, her ability to destroy anything that went against the laws of nature, like the horcruxes, but he wasn't about to bring that up.

"I have not seen her perform any spells that would fit under the aegis of Charms, nor Transfiguration. And those spells she does employ seem to be wide-area spells ... that is, she doesn't seem to be able to target one person, or part of one person, with her spells." Severus continued.

"So she's traded accuracy and variety for sheer power." The second year summed up.

"So it would seem." Severus agreed. "A not unwise trade off, given her usual targets."

"No kidding." Daphne said. "From what I saw, our people had a time of it dealing with the demons because our spells tend to only be able to affect one thing at a time."

"I wonder if it's possible to do both sorts of magic." Another first year said.

Severus shook his head. "I haven't the slightest idea. If it is at all possible, I would imagine that the younger a person is when they attempt to learn both methods, the better. After a time of working with only one type, it would likely become quite difficult to learn the other method."

And from the grin on the kid's face, he'd taken that comment exactly as Severus had meant it ... encouragement for the boy to seek Willow out and try to learn her version of magic. With just over a month of instruction in 'normal' magic, two weeks of which had been ... well, rather nonexistent ... the first years stood the best chance of learning Willow's brand of magic, if it was possible for them to learn it at all, which Severus was by no means convinced of.

"How is it there's more than one Slayer? I thought there could be only one at a time?" Daphne asked.

"That is a far easier question. It would seem the 'one Slayer at a time' legend was based upon the fact that nonmagical means of medical intervention weren't all that good at preserving life, until fairly recently." Severus said. "If a Slayer was that badly injured, they simply didn't recover. But Muggles are clever, and in the last hundred years, they've developed a number of ways to pull someone from the jaws of Death. One such method was employed on the Slayer by Mr. Harris some decade ago or so. The Slayer had been dead just long enough to 'call' her replacement, so when she revived, there were two. How there are hundreds of them, I do not know." Ok, so that was a blatant lie ... they'd been told that Willow had done that, in order to keep the world turning when a particularly bad nasty had tried to end the world. But again, there were just some things the kids didn't need to know.

"Wait ... Muggles can keep people from dying?" That came from a thoroughly skeptical Draco.

"Not every time, but yes, they have developed ways to increase the chances of survival for someone in need of medical intervention on that level." Severus said. "The particular method Mr. Harris employed is roughly equivalent to the Anapneo and Custodiant Spirans spells. There are other things they do as well, to attempt to fix severe problems."

There were a few other questions, and then Severus was able to give them their next assignment and wrap up the meeting.

Draco watched Snape leave, still mulling over what he'd learned. Muggles could ... really? It seemed impossible that they could do something like prevent death without magic. And yet Snape was vouching for it.

Abruptly, he snorted and gave his head a shake. What was he thinking? Really now, muggles just weren't worth the bother. They were lesser creatures ...

Draco sighed and slumped. Yeah, he wasn't really managing to sound all that convinced, even in his own head. Not after seeing what these people were capable of. Especially Harris. That man was downright scary on a level that Draco had previously thought only Snape could reach. After the last couple of weeks, Draco could well believe the one-eyed man could and would find a way to do whatever he put his mind to, even if that meant shattering a millennia or so of belief in something.

Maybe Harris had a point after all, and he ought to ... well, get to know the Muggle world a bit. It was bound to be pathetically inferior to the wizarding world in most respects, but it ought to be an amusing diversion at the least. Perhaps he'd bring up the possibility of visiting the muggle world come the Christmas break?

October 7, Black Manor

Narcissa took a deep breath as she approached the steps of the old Black Manor. The place looked like crap ... but then, it had been effectively abandoned for roughly a decade or so, since Walburga's death. None of the living, non-incarcerated Blacks had been able to effect entry, which really should have told the Wizengamot something.

If Sirius had been truly guilty, he would have lost his position as the heir of the Black line, and the next closest male relative would have become heir ... in this case, Draco, since he was the only magical male with enough Black blood in his veins. Unless Marius had, by some miracle, bred a wizarding child and the child hadn't approached the rest of the family. Only the Head of the family or his heir could re-open the family mansion after the wards had shut the place down and fuss with the family vaults. That Narcissa, as the mother of the next heir after Sirius hadn't so much as tried to open the place, or take control of the Black family vaults as regent for her son should have been a huge clue that something fishy was going on.

It had taken her over a week, and multiple owls, to convince Sirius to meet with her. He was, rather understandably, suspicious of her motives. Hopefully, she could convince him of her sincerity. It helped that she truly had no interest in fomenting rebellion or following some maniacal idiot ... should another one raise their head at some point. She was, above all else, a Black, and Blacks did not lower themselves to such depths.

The door opened before she could touch it, and a pinch-faced Sirius stood in the opening, eyeing her mistrustfully.

"Come in, Narcissa." Sirius invited, though he looked like he'd very much prefer to leave her standing on the doorstep until doomsday.

Narcissa flicked a quick glance at Sirius' right hand, confirming that the Black ring was on his finger, which meant he had, indeed, taken his rightful place as Head of the family. She was somewhat surprised that he had done it, given his extreme distaste for everything the Black family stood for, but then again, the only other viable choice would be Draco, and Sirius wouldn't want the considerable political and monetary power the Black family wielded to fall into the hands of someone who might support the sort of agenda Voldemort had espoused.

Sirius led her to one of the parlors, and they sat stiffly, and largely in silence for a time before Narcissa finally broached the subject that had brought her here.

"I find myself, cousin, in a rather uncomfortable position." She told Sirius. "Most of the Malfoy fortune has been seized, and even if I sold the Malfoy mansion, I would not be able to support both myself and my son for very long."

Sirius sighed. "I'll save us both a lot of pussyfooting around." He said. "The only way I'll take you back under the Black banner and support you and your son is if I get an Unbreakable Vow ... from both of you ... that neither of you will betray the Family, support evil, or practice it yourselves." He grimaced. "Put in better, more defined terms, but that would be the gist of it."

She'd expected as much. "I cannot speak for Draco at this juncture, but I will contact him and inquire as to his willingness to meet your terms. For myself, I have no qualm with doing as you ask."

Sirius nodded. "Do that. We'll talk again when you find out what his decision is."

Narcissa didn't try to mistake the rather blunt unspoken dismissal for anything but what it was. "Until we speak again, then, cousin." She said, and got to her feet to leave the manor.


	7. First Steps

First Steps

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

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October 8, Hogwarts

Octavian Selwyn had been raised all his life with the concept that purebloods were superior in all respects, that creatures, halfbloods and Mudbloods were inherently inferior and had no place in Wizarding society. He had taken his Sorting into Slytherin as all but pre-ordained ... after all, it was the One True House in Hogwarts, insofar as purebloods were concerned.

And then, in the space of less than a month, everything Octavian had ever been taught, everything he'd ever thought he'd known, had been turned on its ear. A muggle, a vampire, a bunch of girls who defied description, being both muggle and yet not ... and a woman with a type of magic he'd never seen before had destroyed not just the Death Eaters but the Dark Lord himself. Had proven, beyond any shadow of a doubt that the so-called lesser beings were anything but.

But Octavian was not a Slytherin for nothing. Slytherins, come what may, survived. They were clever, and adaptable and above all else ambitious, and an opportunity lay before him that had not existed for his predecessors. If it was possible to learn both the magic he'd known of all his life, and the magic he'd seen wielded by the Willow woman ... Oh, to be that person! The first to truly master both types of magic? That was the sort of dream that was bread and butter to a Slytherin. Even one that was eleven years old.

And even if it proved to not be possible ... well, there had to be an advantage in being 'in' with the newcomers. Octavian knew they would not simply disappear into the mists and never be seen again ... not after the last few weeks. No, there would be some sort of interaction between the Wizarding world and the Council for a good long while to come, and the potential ... heady stuff. All he had to do was figure out how to approach Willow. Preferably when Harris wasn't about.

Harris made him nervous. Octavian had seen Harris' rampage through the school, axe in hand. He'd seen death in Harris' eye that day, had seen what Harris had done during the battle in the pensieve. The longer Harris went with no idea that Octavian even existed, the happier Octavian would be.

Luck seemed to be with him, as the morning after he'd asked Professor Snape if it was possible to learn both sorts of magic (and gotten tacit permission to find out), he was late to breakfast. He'd started working on the new assignment, having enjoyed the mental exercise the first had given him, and looking forward to more of the same from this one. In his rush to get to the Great Hall before the food disappeared, he came remarkably close to mowing Willow down as he careened around a corner. Somehow, he managed to avoid actual contact, though he ended up sprawled on his arse on the floor in the process.

"Oh! I'm sorry. Are you all right?" Willow asked, one hand to her chest as she got over the startlement of the near-crash. She reached down with the other, automatically offering to help the young boy she'd nearly crashed into to his feet.

Octavian accepted the hand up and smiled at her. "I'm all right. Sorry I nearly ran you down." He said.

Willow smiled at him. "It's all right. What's your name, and where were you rushing off to?"

"I'm Octavian Selwyn." Octavian told her. "And I'm headed to the Great Hall. I almost missed breakfast, working on Professor Snape's new assignment."

Willow grinned as she turned to walk with him towards the Great Hall. "I've heard about that project of his, though he's been remarkably close-mouthed about what the assignments actually are. Or what he told you and your Housemates just before Hogwarts came under attack."

Octavian considered his options, then decided there was no real harm in telling her. "The first assignment was making us look at memories of the big battle, and figuring out where traditional Slytherin values would have similar or better results. The newest one is to analyze what we can of the decisions the Dark Lord made from his first arrival in the Wizarding world and what he could have done that would have achieved his aims with better results."

"As for what Professor Snape told us ... he showed us some of his memories of meetings with the Dark Lord before he got ... well, whatever happened to him when he tried to kill Potter the first time." Octavian's shudder was entirely unfeigned. "It was horrible. He was as apt to torture his own people as anyone else, even when they failed through no fault of their own." He gave his head a shake. "And his entire plan seemed to amount to 'torture and kill as many people as I can, regardless of who they are'. Not exactly someone that anyone with sense would want to follow."

"Good point." Willow said. "Though from what we've learned, he really only got that way towards the end of his rampage." Because he'd created so many horcruxes, Willow suspected, but she wasn't about to tell this little boy that. "At first, he seemed to be very clever and charismatic."

Octavian nodded. "My dad used to say that about him." There was little point in trying to hide the fact that his father had been a Death Eater. Willow and the others would find out from someone else even if he tried to hide it.

Willow glanced down at him. "Your ... oh. I'm sorry. Was he ... "

Octavian was surprised to realize that Willow sounded truly regretful about his father's probable fate. "He was." He said. "In the battle."

"I'm so sorry." Willow told him, putting a somewhat hesitant hand on his shoulder.

"I won't pretend it doesn't bother me." Octavian said. Truth be told, the reality of it hadn't quite hit, yet. It was hard to come to terms with the fact that his father was dead. It just didn't seem possible. "But crumpling up in a corner won't bring him back." Nor would hating the Council people. He took a deep breath. "I do have a question for you, though"

"Go ahead. I can't guarantee an answer, but I don't mind you asking." Willow said.

"Do you think it's possible for one of us to learn your sort of magic?" Octavian said.

Willow tilted her head to the side a moment, then smiled. "I should think so, at least to some limited extent. Are you any good at Potions?" She asked.

Octavian gave her a look. "I wouldn't know. I've not really had much of a chance to find out." Between being a First Year and the fact classes had been effectively canceled for two weeks.

Willow laughed. "Point. But the fact Hogwarts teaches Potions means that at least some of you have some ability in my sort of magic ... earth magic. After all, brewing potions doesn't require a wand, does it?"

Octavian's eyebrows went up. "No, no it doesn't, except for one or two really, really high-level potions that only the best Masters can brew." He cocked his head at her. "Do you think I could learn other stuff, besides the potions?"

Willow looked down at him, expression suddenly serious. "Possibly. But before I agree to teach you anything, you must promise me to do exactly ... and only ... as I tell you, and to never, ever attempt to do any earth magic unsupervised, or experiment with variations on things I show you. Earth magic is very, very dangerous if you don't know what you're doing." To put it mildly.

That's what got her in so much trouble. She'd leapfrogged about half of the stuff she needed to have worked her way through, in her desire to be 'of use'. She had mixed and matched and generally toyed with powers she didn't fully understand and hadn't respected at all. And it had bitten her in the ass, big time. She didn't want that happening to someone else.

Octavian nodded. "Fair enough." He said. It made sense to him not to go mucking about with something he had no understanding of. "I can give you a Wizard's Oath to that effect. There would be ... repercussions ... if I went back on my word, that way. Above and beyond whatever might happen to me as a result of being an idiot, anyway."

Willow nodded. "That will work." She agreed.

Octavian pulled his wand, and gave his oath. "I, Octavian Selwyn, solemnly swear to do only as Willow Rosenberg instructs me to do in regards to Earth Magic, and to never attempt to perform or experiment with Earth Magic unsupervised until such time as Willow Rosenberg gives me permission to, so mote it be."

Willow nodded. "All right. I don't want to interfere with your regular school work, so we'll have to meet on the weekends. Probably Sundays, since Professor Snape seems to have laid claim to your House's Saturdays. I'll bring you a book to read later today, and you can have questions to ask when we meet next. And even if you can't actually do more than Potions, understanding Earth Magic might come in handy sometime."

Octavian smiled. "See you later, then."

HPHPHP

Octavian wasn't the only Slytherin putting a plan into action. Daphne Greengrass was as well, though her plan was far less grandiose than Octavian's. She had no ambitions to learn Earth Magic. She planned to make herself if not indispensable to the Council, then a highly-prized resource. After all, the Greengrasses were a pureblood family that weren't supremacists, nor were they so-called Muggle lovers. They had access to ... well, less 'twisted' information than either side had. After all, much of the information both sides worked with had been ... adjusted ... to better support their claims. a more moderate, well-balanced view of Wizarding history would be of benefit to the Council, to sort the truth from the lies in both camps. And even in the middle, since Daphne was well aware that history was written by the winners, so for all she knew there was misinformation amongst what she knew.

Daphne headed straight for Xander after breakfast. Unlike her First Year Housemate, she was not terrified of Xander. Deeply respectful of his abilities and disinclined to piss him off, yes. Afraid of him, no.

"Mr. Harris?" She asked.

Xander glanced over at her. "Hey there. What's up?" Xander had to restrain the urge to tell her to call him Xander. Being called Mr. Harris still felt very, very weird.

"I had a thought earlier. The Council doesn't know all that much about the Wizarding world, do they?" Daphne asked.

Xander eyed her for a moment, and Daphne had to fight the urge to squirm against the sense that she was being weighed and judged. Finally, he spoke again. "Not really, no."

"And pretty much everything you do know, you've learned from one extreme or the other. The Death Eaters or, well, whatever label you want to put on the people with the opposing viewpoint."

Xander nodded. "That's true."

"Well, my family ... and a few others ... have been neutral in this whole mess from the start. I won't pretend that the information we have is free of misinformation, but it's at least not heavily slanted to support one side or the other."

"And you're offering access to this information in exchange for ... what?" Xander wanted to know.

Daphne had to fight down a grin. Any and all doubt (not that she personally had had any) that Xander was largely Slytherin in mindset just got washed down the drain. "A reciprocal information exchange." She told him. "Quite frankly, Mr. Harris, you and your people are ... extremely interesting. And almost completely unknown." And there was little in the world that a Slytherin liked better than delving into a mystery. Especially one as intriguing and full of possibilities as this one. "I imagine you're trying to forge ties with the adults, but it's always been a truism that the young adapt better to situations like this. Your best chance of having solid allies in the Wizarding world comes from this school and the kids in it."

It was an equitable exchange. She learned about them, they learned about the Wizarding world. She earned a position of influence among them, and in exchange, they got a strong ally in the Wizarding world that would be better positioned to lobby for them than anyone from the two extremist camps, as they could speak to what was, after all, the bulk of the wizarding population.

Xander eyed her for several long, nerve-wracking moments before he smiled and nodded, extending one calloused hand. "I do believe we have a deal miss ... "

"Daphne Greengrass." Daphne introduced herself, shaking his hand.

"So what can you tell me?" Xander wanted to know. He got to his feet and motioned for her to follow him.

"Offhand, without the books for reference, just that the whole dark/light pureblood/muggleborn conflict has been going on a lot, lot longer than Voldemort." Daphne said. "Longer even than the Founders, though a lot of people like to attribute the Dark to Salazar. He might have been a Dark Wizard, but he was hardly the first. Or the most influential. And there used to be a difference between Dark and Evil, which, unfortunately, seems to have gone by the wayside at some point ... not sure when, why, or how." Daphne told him as she followed him into the teacher's meeting room.

"Interesting." Xander said, and he meant it. "Any idea what started the problem?"

"Not a one. I imagine it might be somewhere in the books, but I didn't run across an explanation for it in the ones I've read." Daphne told him. "Though, given my age and the fact I've been at Hogwarts much of the time the past four years and a bit, I haven't been able to read anywhere near even a tenth of the library at our manor." Most of the books had simply been beyond the comprehension of an under-eleven-year-old, or even a fifteen year old, for that matter. And of the ones that weren't, well, it's not like she was a Ravenclaw who did nothing but read.

"Fair enough. Your dad going to be willing to let strangers borrow his books?" Xander wanted to know.

"Strangers, possibly not. His daughter? Definitely." Daphne admitted. "He'll figure out you guys are reading them even if I don't tell him, but as long as I am technically in possession of the books, he won't squawk."

Xander nodded. "Fair enough. Now, what exactly are you wanting to know about us?"

"Everything." Daphne admitted. "But let's start with ... who was the Slayer, before there were multiple Slayers? And how did you meet her, and get involved in demon hunting?"

"You better get comfortable, Daphne. Because it's a bit of a story." Xander told her.


	8. Choices

Choices

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

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October 8, Hogwarts

Draco had received a letter from his mother the night before. This had been fairly unusual, because normally, letters and packages were received at breakfast. But along with so much else, evidently this too had, at least temporarily, gone by the wayside.

Not that, once he opened the letter and read it, he much blamed his mother for wanting to get this to him as quickly as possible.

They, like the other Death Eater families, had been stripped of much of their wealth, left with only the bare minimum to survive on. Given Lucius' rather high-profile place at Voldemort's side, that left them in an exceedingly vulnerable position. Anyone with a beef against Lucius could take it out on them. And while his mother was a formidable woman, she could not hope to keep all the vultures at bay alone, and with few resources. Seeking the protection of her natal family's Head of House was the only way to keep the both of them safe.

It surprised him not at all that Sirius Black required Unbreakable Vows of them, given the situation. His mother had no qualms about accepting that stricture. Draco ... was waffling. Not because he wanted to continue in his fathers' footsteps, but because he wasn't sure he could handle taking a subordinate position in the Family hierarchy to Potter, whom he was very, very sure Black would have named as his heir, until and unless Black married and had children of his own. A state of affairs Draco knew would not change if he accepted a place in the Black family, despite him being more closely related to the Blacks than Potter was, given that his mother was a Black, and it was Potter's grandmother who'd been a Black.

On the other hand, he also had no illusions as to what would happen if his mother accepted Black's offer and he didn't. He'd be completely, totally on his own, with next to no funds and no support whatever. Which was a state of affairs not to be borne.

It galled him that he had to choose between being what amounted to an unwanted tagalong or being completely alone in the world. Or it did, until he realized there was a third option. One he'd seen two of his Housemates taking full advantage of earlier this morning. Perhaps it would be feasible for him to make his own path ... with the Council. Granted, he would have to become acclimated to the Muggle world, but how hard could that be? And in the meantime, he had a better-than-average working knowledge of demons and Dark creatures already, and was quite capable of defending himself. Better still, from what he understood of the way it was supposed to work, every Slayer was supposed to have a Watcher ... but from everything he'd seen, and comments he'd heard, the Council was low on Watchers and magic wielders of any variety.

The question was ... would they want him? Be willing to trust him? Then, he remembered who one of their people was. A vampire. Surely if they could accept a vampire, they could accept him. But just to be sure ... he decided to talk to the vampire in question. It couldn't possibly be harder than talking to Xander.

Spike wasn't all that hard to find. Draco had noticed that, if all hell wasn't breaking loose or he wasn't otherwise busy, the vampire had a tendency to find somewhere to sprawl out in the sun. Draco still wondered how the heck that was even possible, actually. Perhaps he'd be able to find out. At any rate, Draco found Spike sprawled on the front steps of the school, eyes closed and looking entirely too happy for being an creature of evil.

"Was wonderin' when one of you brats was goin' to try'n corner me." Spike said, eyes still closed. "So what's it, then?"

Draco sat down a bit away. "My mother is seeking refuge with Head of her natal Family ... which happens to be Sirius Black."

Spike peeled an eye open a slit. "An' you're not thrilled about that idea."

Draco snorted. "Not a bit of." He admitted. "Not only would I have to kiss Black's ass, I'd have to kiss his heir's ass too ... and if he's named anyone other than Potter as his heir, I'll be extremely shocked."

Spike sat up. "And you're taking umbrage at going from heir of one Family to ... not even being considered as a 'spare heir' for another."

Draco blinked. "How ... ?"

Spike snorted. "I was born in a time when that sort of thing was still a big deal in what you call the muggle world. So I know how it goes."

Draco sighed in relief. At least he wouldn't have to explain the finer points of inheritance and status, then. "My only other choice is to go it alone, which is ... shall we say, impractical in the extreme." He shook his head. "I'd have some small amount of money from whatever's left of the Malfoy fortune, but ... "

"Not much, and you'd be doing worse than starting from scratch when it came to forging alliances." Spike said, then gave Draco a narrow-eyed look. "Unless you got a leg up by working with someone who has the backing and influence you need to get off the ground, and a way to make a name for yourself separate from your father. But you're wondering if we'll have you."

Draco gave a nod. "I'm not interested in being evil." He said. "Never really was. Yes, I gave Potter a hard time, but that was mostly because I honestly don't like the goody-two-shoes." Aside from that, he'd mostly settled for running off at the mouth, which was hardly the same as going around hexing people.

That made Spike throw his head back and laugh. When he finally managed to stop, he gave Draco a slightly fangy grin. "Sounds like me'n Harris, back in Sunnydale. Couldn't stand the brat, and he hated my guts. Didn't help I thought he had all the survival instincts of a suicidal lemming."

"So what happened?" Draco wanted to know.

Spike grinned again. "Harris grew up." He said. "Simple as that, really. Grew up and wised up, and stopped being such an annoying wanker. Started usin' his head for more'n holding a hat." And had learned to fight well enough to, if not kick Spike's ass, then to put a serious dent in it, but Spike wasn't about to say that. "So Potter might annoy the hell out of you right now, but in a few years ... who knows? But to answer your other question ... if you can handle the muggle world, they won't have a problem lettin' you join. Let me join 'em, didn't they?" Even before he'd had a soul. Not to mention that they hadn't killed or exiled Willow when she'd gone darkside on them. They'd even let Faith come back after she'd sided with the enemy. "They'll probably want you to finish school, first."

Draco shrugged. "Fair enough. Though really, I only need to complete my OWLs. The NEWTs won't really matter as much, if I'm not staying in the wizarding world."

Spike gave an amused snort. "Y'better see if you can handle the muggle world before you go making those plans." He pointed out. "Think it's going to give you a surprise or three." Billion. "Given how screwed the year's been to now, might be possible to work something out where you take your books with you and do the assignments long distance, or something. We can talk to McGonagall about it."

Draco nodded. "Fair enough. I better head back in. I've got a letter to write." He just hoped he was making the right decision.

HPHPHP

In the Gryffindor dorm, Harry was being faced with something fairly unprecedented, in his experience. A huge mass of letters, all encouraging him to come work for various people or wizarding organizations when he was done with school. It had brought the issue of his future into rather sharp focus.

There had been a time when he'd wanted nothing more than to be an auror. But now, being a bit older, and having dealt with the Wizarding world's capricious nature ... and the corrupt nature of the Ministry ... he wasn't any too sure that's what he wanted anymore.

Oh, he knew that Amelia Bones was planning on cleaning up the Ministry. And given how popular she was, she had every chance of being elected as Minister in the election in two week's time, which would enable her to continue her efforts for a while to come. But at some point, she would no longer be Minister, and there was zero guarantee that her successor wouldn't be as brainless, corrupt and ineffectual as Fudge had been. And Harry refused to work for people like that.

Not to mention that with the whole 'boy who lived' thing, and his role in Voldemort's final defeat, people were, one again, worshipping the ground he walked on. Which was incredibly annoying on all counts. And Harry had no idea how long it would last before everyone decided he was an up and coming Dark Lord and needed to be put down for the safety of the wizarding world, or some such idiocy.

His current popularity made ... well, pretty much all the offers ... suspect. Were they asking him to work for them because he was good at what they did (or showed signs of being good at it) or because he was the 'boy who lived'? A few of the offers, it was rather obvious they wanted the 'boy who lived' regardless of his abilities, due to what they said and what they were offering if he'd work for them. But most of them ... well, he had no way of knowing. Which annoyed the hell out of him.

On the other hand, the Council didn't give two hoots about the whole 'boy who lived' thing. They needed people who could do research, and magic, and watch the backs of the myriad of Slayers on their payroll. Better yet, Harry knew for a fact that Xander was dangling every juicy temptation he could think of in front of Remus to get him to join the Council, and that Remus was better than halfway to actually agreeing to it, simply for the fact that his lycanthropy was a complete non-issue with the Council people. And Sirius was tempted as well, being even more jaundiced in his opinion of the Ministry and the wizarding world than Harry was, for rather understandable reasons.

Harry decided to go find Xander and talk about it, and shoved all the offers into a ball that he carried downstairs and chucked into the fireplace to burn. It amused him that Xander was also a reason to get a job with the Council. Over the last few months, Harry had become rather fond of Xander, seeing him as something of a big brother. A big brother that gave Bill Weasley a run for his money in the cool department.

Actually, now that he thought of it, he really wanted those two to meet. Bill hadn't been able to get away from his job in Egypt in time for the fighting, given how fast it had all happened. Harry rather thought that Bill and Xander would get along like a house afire.

If the two boys had any idea they were making much the same decision, if for different reasons, both boys would have been completely and utterly horrified.

HPHPHP

Daphne was hard-put not to blatantly stare at Xander as they left the teacher's lounge just before lunch. The two of them had ended up talking for hours, and the things Daphne had found out! Even sitting there, seeing the dead-serious look on Xander's face, it was nigh on to impossible to believe.

She had also decided, very firmly, that for all Xander had a healthy dollop of Slytherin in him ... more than several of her Housemates combined, actually ... he also had a huge dollop of Gryffindor in him ... or had had, as a teen. Because there really was no other explanation for jumping into demon fighting with both feet and next to no training.

Not that he'd copped to the not having training, but Daphne had been able to read between the lines of what he'd said. And it had been blatantly clear that he and his friend Willow had been woefully unprepared for what they'd gotten themselves into, and had stayed that way for a long time to come.

Frankly, it made their success all the more noteworthy. These people, barring Rupert Giles, hadn't had a clue what the hell they were doing ... and they'd won anyways, against some heavy odds, if Xander's expression was anything to go by. Which, she admitted, was mostly what she had to go on, as he had a rather distressing tendency to skate over the bulk of the details.

Nor had Xander been the only one talking, as she had found herself explaining various bits of wizarding culture, tradition, and customs, and, insofar as she knew, how things had gotten to the state they'd been in just prior to the Council's arrival.

Daphne gave a purely mental snort. If she didn't watch it, she'd start to get a crush on Xander. Not that many people would blame her. She'd seen the way many of the fifth, sixth, and seventh year girls had been eyeing him. Xander himself seemed to be hilariously oblivious to their interest, which was probably for the best.

Daphne had been just about to spit off from Xander hand head for her usual spot at the Slytherin table when Harry came trotting in and headed straight for Xander.

"Hey Xander, can I talk to you after lunch?"

Xander grinned at him. "How about during? After all, there's no rule that says I have to eat at the Head table." He pointed out.

Harry grinned. "That works."

Daphne shook her head and went on her way, wondering what it was Harry wanted to talk to Xander about.


	9. Decisions

Decisions

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

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October 14, Ministry

A week solid of meetings to weed through the lawbooks had, Amelia reflected, some unexpected benefits. Normally, the various members of the Wizengamot met four times a year for business, and that was it. While each of the factions had a good idea of what they wanted, and the strengths and weaknesses of the various members of their faction, the same could not be said for other factions. And there was an unstated rule that you stuck with the people in your faction.

A week solid of meeting to abolish the laws that were alternately hilarious and horrifying, rather than trying to pass new laws on various things, had begun to break down a few of those barriers. It was sort of hard to keep your nose in the air when you were all but on the floor from laughing so hard at some idiot law or other, or staring at your neighbors in horrified awe at how completely nuts a law was.

It helped that there was a lot of good-natured betting going on every day, something Amelia did absolutely nothing to stop, had actually placed her own bets in a few categories, anything to do with stuff she hadn't already found to point out to the Wizengamot. It also helped that the worst of the nasty-minded folks were now dead or in jail for life. Without them around to cause trouble or intimidate everyone with subtle threats, things had lightened up considerably.

It was also looking more and more like Amelia would get to stay in her new post. Oh, some folks didn't like her, that was a given, but the vast majority seemed to wholeheartedly approve of her calm, no-nonsense, minimal bullshit style of leadership. The vote wouldn't happen until next week, of course, but it was looking like it would go her way.

Though the small faction that wanted Xander Harris as Minister never ceased to make her laugh. She didn't think the young man was aware of that particular section of his fanclub, but if he was, he was probably utterly horrified. From what little she'd seen of the man, he wanted no part of that sort of power. He was uncomfortable enough with the notoriety he'd gained for his part in defeating Voldemort. Fortunately for his sake, there was nowhere near enough of them to actually manage to get him elected. She was just grateful that Harry was too young to be eligible for any government position other than 'summer helper', or he'd be on the ballots too.

Her only real competition was Rufus Scrimgeour, and he, like Amelia, hadn't nominated himself. He had, in fact, made it clear he was content to stay in the DMLE. That wouldn't stop him from having to take the position if he got voted in, of course, but he'd made it clear he'd be leaning on her for ideas and assistance.

Once the last few stragglers had arrived and settled into their places, Amelia banged the gavel. "Good morning everyone. Let's get this done, shall we? I'd like to try to get to the twelve hundreds today if we can."

Everyone opened their copies of the lawbooks and settled in for a day of hilarity and horror.

October 14, Hogwarts

Severus had, as had become the norm, spent the morning with his Snakes, attempting to impart to them the differences between how they had been behaving and how they should be behaving. Most of them, to his pleasure, seemed to be catching on. A few weren't getting it, either out of intransigence or a simple inability to comprehend. Crabbe and Goyle had not been the only ones in his House too simple to understand complex concepts. How they managed to get into Slytherin would remain a mystery for the ages.

But for now, he put thoughts of his Snakes aside, as it was time for the weekly meeting. This one promised to be more ... in depth and potentially contentious, as they'd all had time to think things over and figure out what they'd like to see changed. It ought to be interesting.

Eventually, everyone arrived, and Minerva called them to order. They spent an hour skimming through the rulebook, which only garnered them two rules that needed to be struck. Severus knew that the further they got from the Founders' time, the more oddball rules would show up, but it was pleasant to see that so little needed to be changed, and what did need changing had more to do with the changing times than the rules being silly.

That done, Minerva opened the floor to ideas for improvement and addition of classes and anything else the teachers wanted to suggest.

"We desperately need new brooms." Hooch said immediately. "I've begged for them for years. The ones we have are getting downright dangerous because they're so old. It's only a matter of time before one of them kills a student, and then we'll have real trouble on our hands."

"Agreed." Minerva said, making a note on the scroll she'd brought with her. "We've come close as it is ... I remember when Neville's broom went crazy and dumped him, his first year."

Hooch shivered, remembering that incident. "That was so close." She said. Then she continued. "On a similar front, I'd like to suggest non-House teams. That is, groups of kids, whether from one House or several, who get together to play Quidditch for fun. It will give everyone who enjoys the sport a chance at playing, even if they're not good enough to make the House teams, and give more kids an outlet for their energy. I have the time to watch over them, since I only have flying classes with the first years once a day and the House games."

Pomona nodded. "It would also allow give the House team captains a chance to see who might be playing well enough to qualify as substitutes for the main team, or who might improve enough to qualify if they were given some help."

"I suggest we make it clear that participation in the unofficial teams is contingent upon one's scholastic achievement, the same as it is for the House teams." Severus pointed out. "So as to ensure they do not let their schoolwork fall by the wayside in favor of playing."

"A valid point, Severus." Minerva agreed. "And this is something I think the children would be all too happy to see implemented."

Charity spoke up. "We might want to think about accommodating some of the Muggle sports." She said. "Football, cricket, things like that. The muggleborn and raised will appreciate it, and some of the purebloods might discover they like the games."

Minerva nodded. "That is definitely something worth considering. Unfortunately, I have no idea what requirements those sports have."

"Most of them would be playable on the Quidditch pitch." Charity said. "We'd have to purchase or enchant some equipment, but not all that much." They'd also have to figure out a way to mark the boundaries of the playing field for each game, but that wasn't going to be too terrible an issue.

Hooch nodded. "I can nominate helpers for the various muggle sports from among the ones most interested in playing them, since I know nothing of them. It'd be a simple matter."

"On another similar issue." Flitwick spoke up. "I strongly suggest we bring back the music and art classes. I never understood why they were removed from the syllabus in the first place, since those classes frequently pointed out children who would excel in certain fields like home construction and design, as well as portrait making. A class on basic writing skills, like how to format and write a proper essay would be wise as well."

That last one got a rather vocal round of agreement from all and sundry, as everyone save Hooch had been subjected to some rather horrifying attempts at essays over the years.

"Regarding security concerns." Severus spoke up. "I believe the current method, utilizing the portraits and house elves as well as teacher and prefect patrols, is sufficient to police the children on the grounds and in the castle. However, I think we need to take a long, hard look at the castle's defenses and ensure it is impossible to bring Dark artifacts onto the grounds, or for someone not a teacher or student to sneak onto the grounds. Both have been problems in the past." At least they were assured there were no Dark artifacts lingering in the castle, thanks to the house elves' purge of the things.

"Agreed." Minerva said. "Perhaps it will be possible to garner the assistance of the Council people to that end. I've seen some of the things they've pulled over the last few weeks, and it equals or betters anything we can do."

"I have also acquired the assistance of Messrs. Trumble of Hufflepuff and Norton of Ravenclaw for my classes." Severus said. "Mr. Norton has expressed an interest in continuing as my assistance after his graduation, and I have accepted. That should be sufficient for my needs."

Minerva nodded. "That's good to know, Severus. With the addition of the sports, which will draw people from all Houses, and the music and art classes as electives which we can deliberately mix and match, the need for the double classes is pretty much abolished, so we shall discontinue those next year. We can always leave the Great Hall open for people to hang out in. All we'd need to do is ensure someone is there to keep an eye on everyone."

"We might also wish to consider something I've been told is done in muggle schools." Charity said. "It's called a job fair, wherin persons from various careers come to the school and discuss their careers with the children." Charity piped up. "That way, the children know early on what jobs they like the sounds of and might be good at, and what classes the jobs require. It would also introduce them to jobs outside of government positions or whatever career their family generally tends towards, since not every child excels in the fields that are required for the 'family job', whatever it might be."

"At the very least, we can compile the information to have on hand." Minerva agreed. "I would want to know what all is involved in this 'job fair' idea before I agreed to it."

Charity nodded. "I'll let Wesley know to talk to you ... he knows all the details."

"Excellent. Anything else of note?" Minerva asked. She got a round of headshakes. "Very well. I'll look into finding teachers for the new subjects, as well as assistants to help keep an eye on things. Hooch, with any luck, you'll have those new brooms before next month."

Hooch sighed in relief. "Thank you, Minerva."

HPHPHP

The Council group had met the week before to exchange news of their discussions with the various kids. The decision had been made to introduce Draco to the muggle world on the weekends, and to bring him to the Council HQ at first, as there was still magic there, if a different kind than Draco was used to, and did not have the bewildering plethora of ... stuff ... that the wider world had to offer. This made it a reasonable stepping-stone to the wider world. If Draco couldn't handle HQ, he'd never be able to handle even a small town, nevermind someplace like London. Given that Draco's Saturdays were spoken for by Severus, he'd be arriving at HQ early in the morning on Sunday. And every last one of them was looking forward to the first foray.

But that was tomorrow. Today, Xander and Wesley were sitting down with Daphne, who had written home and gotten her father to send her copies of a few of their oldest history books. Xander had dragged Wesley into it because the man had started life as a reasearch Watcher, knew more languages than Xander did, which was good since some of the books would not be in English, and wouldn't lose patience with the books as fast as Xander was liable to. So Wesley would do much of the reading while Xander filled Daphne in on the stuff she wanted to know and she passed on what information she knew that wasn't written down anywhere.

"What I don't understand is Spike." Daphne said. "I mean, vampires are evil. They kill people. It's been that way since, well, forever."

Xander laughed. "Yeah, Spike's an oddball, that's for sure. Honestly, I don't know for sure why. Not like he's about to explain to anyone." Which got a laugh from Daphne. "But some of it I do know." Well, the steps that had gotten Spike from enemy to ally, anyway. He still didn't know why it had been possible, and probably never would. Spike was just ... Spike.

So he filled her in on that and tried not to laugh at the look on her face.

"He has ... a soul." Daphne said, eyebrows trying to merge with her hairline.

"Yeah, I know. He's actually the second one to get one. First one was his sire, Angelus. Called himself Angel once he got it." Xander wasn't about to go into that story though. "Unfortunately, Angel got dusted in Los Angeles when some serious baddies tried to take over the world there. Most of his team died too." Xander sighed. "Wesley was one of two to make it out of there alive, and he almost didn't. He was in intensive care for weeks afterward." The other survivor had been Gunn, who was still in L.A. and worked with Wesley, who was the city's Watcher, and the girls assigned there. "That said, the soul just gives Spike the option of not killing. Doesn't force him not to, just like it doesn't force us not to."

They talked for a while after that about the old Council, and how it had done things, which had Daphne shaking her head in dismayed horror. Xander grinned at her.

"That would be why we were glad when they got blown up. I mean, people dying is never a good thing, but those idiots needed to be gotten out of power, and there was no way we would have managed it on our own. Not with such a small group." He said. "Them getting blown up allowed Giles to rebuild things from the ground up, and it's a lot better now."

HPHPHP

Outside, in an out-of-the-way spot, Willow and Octavian were having a spirited discussion about some of the things Octavian had read in the books Willow had provided him.

"So ... deities are real, then?" Octavian asked.

"Some are, yes." Willow said. "I can't speak for all of them, but there are several that can be appealed to for aid when doing earth magic. If you do, you have got to know what you're doing ... and you have to be sincere. They kind of get a little pissy when you appeal to them simply for form's sake. There's also always a cost to appealing to them, but what the cost is depends on which deity you're appealing to. That, we won't get into for a while, since most of the stuff that requires an appeal to a deity is higher level earth magic. It's just something that's good to know now, because it's possible to build a relationship with a particular deity before you start asking them for help with magic, and if you end up showing a propensity for magic governed by a specific deity, we can discuss you making nice with them."

Octavian nodded. It made sense. If he knew now that deities were real and could be appealed to, he would be less likely to do something to piss them off, which was always a good thing. And if he proved to be able to learn earth magic, not having the deities mad at him would make it infinitely easier to make nice with them and, eventually, to get their assistance.

"Now, the first thing you need to learn is how to get in touch with earth magic at all." Willow said. "Which is why we're outside. It'll be easier to do here than it would be in Hogwarts, where you're surrounded by wand magic." She patted the grass beside her. "I want you to close your eyes and try to quiet your mind. Don't think about anything in particular. Just let yourself feel."

Octavian arranged himself comfortably and began to do as she asked, following her softly-spoken instructions. After a while, he managed to calm to the point where her voice was the only thing he was really aware of. Then, unexpectedly, at the very edge of his awareness, something shimmered. Instinctively he reached for it mentally, wanting to see what it was, only for it to skitter away from him. Which was enough to push him out of the meditative state that Willow had encouraged him into.

"I ... think I felt something." He told her, blinking rapidly as he regained awareness of his surroundings. "Like a sort of shimmer way in the distance. But it disappeared when I tried to get a better look."

Willow smiled at him. "That's actually good. Encouraging. It'll get easier the more you do this. I'll meet with you every day, say, after dinner? to help you meditate until you can do it on your own."

Octavian nodded. "That will work." He agreed. "And thank you."

"Not a problem." Willow told him.


	10. Draco's Day

Draco's Day

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

October 15, Council HQ

Draco, though he would never in a million years admit it, was more than a little nervous as he arrived at the main doors into Hogwarts early on Sunday morning.

He'd been told all his life that Muggles were, essentially, ignorant, vicious savages with nothing to recommend them. He'd never met a Muggle before Harris had arrived at Hogwarts ... the closest he'd gotten was seeing the parents of Muggleborns at a distance in Diagon Alley. He'd never even been in the Leaky Cauldron, since you had to have a wand to get in and out of the arch the Leaky guarded, and his parents had never gone in there anytime they'd had him with them. He'd found out what a helicopter was by eavesdropping on a Muggleborn student explaining what the 'flying things' that most wizardborn had seen going past in the sky were.

He was more than slightly tempted to back out of this. Only his pride prevented him from bolting, because he refused to look weak in front of anyone, nevermind people he considered to be ... well ... lesser beings.

Harris was, of course, waiting for him, with the Willow woman at his side.

"Hello Draco. Couple of things to go over before we leave. Rule one: No fighting anyone outside of supervised training, which I doubt we'll actually do today, but you never know. Rule two: If you don't know what it is, don't touch it without supervision. There are things in the Muggle world that will hurt you if you don't know how to handle them properly. And rule three: the Council HQ is surrounded by a big wall. Do not go beyond it without an escort. For one, you'll be in the unknown without help, and for two, you won't be able to get back on the grounds easily, due to our security measures." Harris told him.

That all seemed fair enough, especially the second rule. It was certainly true of the wizarding world, so it stood to reason it would be true of the muggle world as well. Draco nodded. "Understood." He said.

"Right then. The general plan for today is to get you to HQ, show you around and let you meet some of your potential co-workers, as well as learning about muggle things, and showing you some of what we do, aside from the obvious 'kicking bad-guy ass' part." Harris told him. "So we better get a move on. C'mon over here, and stand on the other side of Willow. We're going to ... well, you guys call it apparating, but we call it teleporting. Anyway, we're going to teleport there."

Draco's eyebrows headed for his hairline even as he moved to where he was asked to. "She can get through Hogwarts' wards?" He asked, having not seen that phenomenon in action yet.

"Yep." Harris said, sounding (justifiably, Draco reluctantly admitted) smug.

As soon as Draco was in place, Willow muttered something, there was a flash of bright light and when Draco's vision cleared ... they were not in Hogwarts any more. He did a double take. There had been no sensation of movement at all, much less the ... unpleasant ... sensations Draco had become inured to that were a part of being side-along apparated.

They had appeared about ten feet away from a tall wrought-iron gate not too different from the one that guarded the entrance to Hogwarts' grounds, bracketed by a brick wall that reached well over Draco's head that extended as far as he could see to the left and right. Through the gate, he could see a paved surface, smoother than the cobblestone of Diagon Alley. Racing back and forth across that smooth expanse were ... odd things on wheels, that made a good deal of noise. Draco wrinkled his nose and turned away from that view, much preferring the view of the Headquarters' grounds.

The New Council's Headquarters was a good-sized chunk of land. There was a section of smooth paving in front of him, and to the left and right. The sections to left and right had the wheeled things scattered here and there, only these were still. At the far end of the right-hand section, he recognized something that looked like a less-tall Knight Bus, which he'd never actually seen in person, but had seen pictures of. This one, at least, wasn't painted eye-searing purple, being black and yellow instead.

Straight ahead, there was a familiar cobblestone path, that led to a large circular courtyard. There was a fountain in the middle, and a number of benches around it. Surrounding the courtyard on three sides were five buildings, the building directly across from the entrance to the grounds being the largest, roughly twice the size of the other four. The rest of the grounds was covered in grass, big, old trees, flowers and bushes. Not to mention people.

Actually, correction. Girls. Lots and lots of girls. Most of the ones Draco could immediately see looked younger than he was. Some of them by quite a bit. There were several that he was fairly sure weren't even old enough to have gone to Hogwarts, if they'd been witches. They were running around in the courtyard, chasing and kicking a ball in some sort of game.

Draco gave his head a shake and then pointed to one of the wheeled things. "What are those?" He wanted to know.

"Those." Harris said. "Are automobiles. The different sizes go by different names. Hey Willow, where's yours at? We can show him the various bits."

Willow pointed to the right-hand paved area. "Down that way, about the middle of the lot."

Harris nodded. "Cool." He motioned Draco to follow him. "Ok, these small ones are called cars. They can carry anywhere from one to five people at a time, and/or a fair amount of stuff. This one is a lorry." He pointed to one with an odd flat section that was open to the air. "It can carry one to three people, and this flat section is used to carry large and/or heavy items that won't fit in a car. That big one down there is a bus, and it can carry up to about eighty people relatively comfortably."

They got to Willow's car at that point, and she took over briefly. "Automobiles can only function when you use the correct key." She told him, holding up the one that went to her 'car'. She then put the key in the side of the vehicle, and grabbed the handle, opening a smallish door. "Come on and take a look."

Draco did so, and peered inside, frowning at the various bits and bobs. Willow walked around to the other side and opened the other door, sliding into the seat there, behind some of what Draco presumed were controls.

"This." She said, patting the round thing immediately in front of her. "Is called the steering wheel. It does what the name implies ... steers. Turn it left, the car goes left. Turn it right, the car goes right." She pointed to some things on the floor. "These down here control how fast or slow you go. One speeds you up, the other slows you down and stops you."

Draco nodded. So far, it seemed fairly straight forward, though he had no idea how the thing worked if it didn't use magic. "What about all of these?" He motioned to the myriad of buttons to the left of the driver.

"Those serve a bunch of different functions. Some of them control the climate in the car, making it warm if it's cold outside, and cool if it's warm." Willow said. "Others control the radio. I know you guys have that too. Muggles have figured out ways to allow you to listen to radio stations just about anywhere you happen to be."

Draco nodded. "And how, exactly, does all this happen, if not by magic?"

Willow frowned for a moment, clearly trying to figure out how to explain it.

"I better handle this one, Willow." Xander said. "Pop the hood."

She nodded and manipulated something, causing the front of the vehicle to move a bit. Draco climbed out of the 'car' to see what was what.

"The simplest explanation, which is about all you'll understand without some serious learning time, is that there is a complex system of gears, powered by a burning fuel." Xander said.

Draco peered into a confusing mass of metal. "In there?"

Xander nodded. "Like I said, you wouldn't understand most of it right now, but the fuel is stored in a different part of the vehicle. When you push the 'go' control on the floor that Willow showed you, some of the fuel is pulled through a small hose into here, where it's lit on fire. Very small fires." Xander held his finger and thumb a tiny distance apart. "Those fires power the gears, which move the wheels."

It seemed a long, involved, complicated work-around to travel without magic. "And how fast can they go?" Draco wanted to know, remembering the automobiles zipping along on the other side of the gate.

"Up to about a hundred and sixty kilometers an hour or so." Xander said. "There are some that can go a good bit faster than that, but they're very specialized ... sort of the Firebolts of the automobile world."

Draco nodded. The Firebolt had mostly been built for speed and maneuverability ... it stood to reason the muggles had an equivalent to that in these automobiles.

About then, however, they got interrupted, as the horde of girls who'd been playing in the courtyard spotted them and came on the run. Quite a few of them surrounded Xander, bouncing and babbling at such speed that Draco couldn't make heads or tails of what they were saying.

It took Xander a few minutes to calm the girls down, and even then, there were two or three that had glued themselves to his sides. "Girls, this is Draco. He's from Hogwarts, and might be joining us. He's wizard born, though, so go easy on him. He's still learning about the muggle world."

"Can we take him shopping to get clothes?" One of the older-looking girls asked.

Xander laughed. "Maybe another time. He's got to decide if he wants to work here first." He pointed out. "Now g'wan. I've got a tour to give."

The girls reluctantly headed off, though the ones that had been clinging to Xander took their own sweet time, and one of them, who looked to be all of about eight years old to Draco's eyes, Xander ended up having to crouch down and talk to her for a few moments in a language Draco didn't understand before she finally headed back towards the game that had resumed.

"They seem to like you a lot." Draco commented.

Xander snorted. "I spent three years in Africa, finding Slayers and bringing them in. About half those girls are from Africa. Most of the rest are from Asia, and glomp Robin Woods, who is the one that's looking for Slayers in Asia, every bit as hard as the ones from Africa glomp me. The girls that come here to live ... don't have family, for one reason or another, and see Robin and I as surrogate dads."

There was something in Xander's expression that told Draco some of the girls didn't have families for very ... bad reasons, and that Xander returned their affection in full measure. Having seen what the man was willing to do to keep Potter, whom he'd known for so short a time, safe, Draco truly pitied anyone or anything stupid enough to attack, or worse, kill any of the African girls. It would not end well at all.

"Right, tour. C'mon." Xander led the way to the first building on the right hand side. "This is the living quarters for watchers, witches, teachers and other staff members." He said. "You'd be living here, if you came to work for us. C'mon in and we can show you Willow's apartment."

"Not yours?" Draco asked.

Xander laughed. "Mine's basically empty. Remember, I've been in Africa for years. I have an apartment here, but it's basically a bed to crash on during my brief stays here, and not much else. My stuff's in storage until I actually stay here for more than three days twice a year."

Willow led the way to her apartment. It was fairly small, with a sitting area, a bedroom, a bathroom, and an area whose function eluded Draco at first.

"What's this area for?" He asked.

"Ahh, that's the kitchen." Xander told him. He walked in and tapped a tall, white cabinet with two doors. "This is called a refrigerator. It keeps food cold, so it doesn't spoil." Xander tapped something else. "This is the stove, which we use to cook food on. We don't have house-elves, so we do our own food preparation. Don't worry, if you decide to stay, we'll teach you how to cook, and until you can manage it on your own, you can eat in one of the places here where food is cooked for those who can't cook for themselves, or don't have the time."

Draco nodded, relieved. So far, this was ... nowhere near as frightening as he'd thought it would be. Of course, this was just one small area, he knew, but still ... better than he'd expected.

They walked out into the sitting area, and Xander pointed at a black thing up against a wall. "That is a television. It's a form of entertainment." Seeing Draco's confused look, Xander grinned. "It's not turned on at the moment. Anyway ... how to explain ... " Xander thought for a moment. "You know how portraits in the wizarding world move and talk? Well, this is sort of like that, except it won't interact with you directly ... and it's like having all the portraits in Hogwarts in one frame." He picked up a slim black thing. "This controls it. Turns it on, and allows you to switch from 'portrait' to 'portrait' until you find something you'd like to watch."

Xander pressed on the control, and the television came to life. The sudden sound and movement made Draco jump, because it was both like, and totally unlike a portrait. There was movement and talking, yes, but in portraits, the movement was solely the people. The background and surroundings never changed. With the television, it did, making him stare in confusion.

"How ... ?" He asked.

There was a long moment of quiet, probably due to Xander and Willow trying to figure out how to explain, then Xander said. "You know how with the wizarding wireless, something is recorded and then broadcast? This is the same basic thing. Special cameras record what's said and done, and can be moved around to catch a specific angle. Once it's all recorded, it's broadcast to televisions for people to watch." Then Xander snorted. "Again, it's a bit more complicated than that, but if you stick around, we'll be able to explain it more fully."

Shortly after that, Xander led the way back out, and the tour continued. And once the tour was done, Draco's day really began. With Xander at his side, both to explain things and help him deal with muggle things when necessary, Draco got to experience a 'normal day' at Headquarters.

It started with breakfast, which they ate at a 'cafeteria' in the building that housed Slayers under the age of sixteen. The cafeteria was, basically, the muggle version of the Great Hall, where food was prepared, delivered, and eaten en masse. Their table was crowded with Xander's girls, all of them chatting merrily, vying for Xander's attention with good-natured railery.

After breakfast was a period of exercise. Draco objected at first.

"Draco, trust me, this isn't optional. Yes, you have magic to defend yourself with, but some demons are either immune or resistant to magic ... not to mention the fact that you might get your wand broken, or get it knocked out of your hand. Being able to run like hell and defend yourself in a way that doesn't require magic will save your life repeatedly. Guaranteed." Xander told him.

Draco still grumbled, but admitted that Xander had a valid point. Fortunately, he wasn't expected to perform at the level the Slayers, even the youngest ones, managed. Which brought up a question. "Why are the Slayers divided by age?" He asked.

"The under-sixteen crowd isn't allowed to go out and Slay." Xander said. "It didn't use to be that way, back when there was only ever one Slayer at a time, but now there's so many, we can afford to let the youngest ones grow up before they have to get bloody. Since most of them are from third world countries or simply don't speak English when they arrive here, all Slayers, regardless of age, are taught to read, write, and do basic arithmetic ... in English, along with basic survival stuff, like how to cook and navigate in a city. We can't really force the older ones to learn more than that, but the younger ones don't get as much of a choice in the matter." Xander grinned. "They get a full education, as well as learning various martial arts and demon species. The older ones are more than welcome to join the classes, and a lot of them do, but we don't force the issue with them."

"Once they reach sixteen, they start learning how to fight the various sorts of dangerous demons. From time to time, the older slayers will beat up but not kill demons, and bring them in for the younger slayers to get a look at when they're not in a life-or-death scenario ... and to allow the girls a chance to practice the various 'killing moves' on something that's worn out and busted up and therefore somewhat less dangerous than an uninjured one would be. That takes a year or two, and then once they're done, they go out in small groups with an experienced Slayer and Watcher team until they prove they can handle combat in the real world." Xander said.

"The Watchers go through a similar process, just somewhat less intense because we happen to not have a Slayer's enhancements, and the newly-graduated Watchers go out with the small groups of newly-graduates Slayers. It's proven the be the best way to pair them up for future patrolling ... there's nothing quite like combat to prove who is compatible with who."

After the morning exercise was the classes. Draco sat in on the ones for Watchers, since it was unknown if he could learn Earth Magic, a question he decided to figure out the answer to, if at all possible. The sheer number of demon species was mind-boggling. And that wasn't even all that a Watcher had to learn. They had to learn latin ... which, Draco was fine there, as he'd started learning it at age eight, since latin was the base for many spells, as well as 'first aid', which, aside from the obvious things like 'stop the bleeding and keep them breathing and their heart beating' involved how to remove various demonic bodily fluids from open wounds, and which ones required immediate, serious medical attention. They were also expected to learn to at least read the most common demonic language, and to recognize, if not to read or speak, the others. Not to mention they were expected to be able to defend themselves and back up the Slayers they'd be working with.

That evening, after dark, Draco was brought on a patrol, though he stayed well back, guarded by Xander, so that he could, again, see what would be expected of him. This was, by far, the most harrowing part of the day, and not just because of the certainty of a vampire or three, as well as some other sort of demon, popping up needing to be killed. It was because this was his first foray into the wider Muggle world, in all its bewildering variety.

But despite that, by the time Xander brought Draco back to Hogwarts in the early hours of the morning, Draco's mind was made up. He would be joining the New Watcher's Council. It was a challenge unlike anything he'd ever seen, which would take all his magical prowess, and every scrap of his cunning and guile to prosper and thrive. He could carve a niche for himself there, be his own self, free of his family's shadow ... either side of his family. It would not be easy ... but then, nothing truly worth having ever was.


	11. Discovering the Future

Discovering the Future

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Apologies for the lateness of the update, but losing my dog unexpectedly and then getting sick did not do good things to my ability to write.

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October 23, Hogwarts

It was election day. Giles had joined Xander, Faith Wesley and Spike at Hogwarts for the day, so as to reduce the chances of anyone crying foul regarding the elections because a Council member was around the polling place. Not that it would stop anyone particularly determined from crying foul, but it reduced the chances of it somewhat.

Today's election would decide the future of the Wizarding world. Giles and the others weren't too particularly worried, as the vocal minority that supported a blood purity regime had been rather effectively and permanently silenced, but there was always the chance that one of the quieter members of that minority who was up for elections would find their voice if they got elected.

Then again, the odds on Amelia Bones getting the post on a permanent basis were extremely favorable. She'd taken full advantage of the month she'd had in which to make an impression. It was going to be hard for her competition to compete against that. Especially since she'd been common sensible, even-handed, and forthright.

Still, there was a chance someone else would get the job of Minister. Rufus Scrimgeour was the most likely one to get the job of the contenders. None of the Council knew the man well enough to know what sort of job he'd do at it, but from what they'd heard of the man, he was fairly similar to Amelia Bones. Just somewhat more inclined towards political shenaniganry. So if he did beat Amelia, there would hopefully not be a problem. The Council really didn't want to have to try to declare martial law or something and force the wizarding world to get its head out of its butt.

Voting ended at seven, and the tallies were available less than five minutes later. Giles and company were relieved and delighted that Amelia won. Not quite by a landslide, as Rufus had made a good showing, but close enough to make it obvious she'd been the clear favorite.

October 24, Ministry

Well, she'd gotten the job.

Amelia still couldn't quite decide if she was happy about it nor not, but she was practical enough to admit that it was probably for the best that she had. A more political sort in the position would be fine later, but now was not the time to be currying favor and kissing butts. Now was the time to be cleaning house and making their world stronger and better.

To that end, Amelia dragged out the list she'd made a month ago, when she'd anticipated her nomination as emergency Minister. Some of the items on that list had begun to be taken care of already, but now that she had the job long-term, it was time to begin kicking the rest into gear.

First on her list was a complete revamping of the Auror corps, from recruiting practices to training methods to equipment. While she had a number of ideas in that regard, she knew it would be foolhardy of her to make those decisions alone. The more minds, the merrier. With that in mind, she called in Alastor, Kingsley, and Rufus.

The four of them talked until lunchtime, hammering out something they could all live with. Sadly, it would be at least two years before there was a truly measurable change in the Auror corps, largely because of the fact that they were going to have to recruit extensively to replace the old, retired, or injured Aurors who hadn't been replaced over the last decade and a half thanks to Fudge and Bagnold. It'd be a minimum of two years before those recruits would be full Aurors, but that couldn't be helped. At least the problem would be fixed, even if it was going to take some time.

Moody had brought up the idea of asking the Council for a few volunteers to assist if it became needed, an idea that Amelia thought was a good one. Hopefully, the Aurors would not be so busy as to require that assistance in the next two years, but you never knew.

After lunch, it was time for the first Wizengamot meeting of her elected career. Fortunately, the meeting wasn't going to deviate any from what had been going on over the last few weeks. It was ironic that the Wizengamot session was the source of some much-needed levity. But then again, running into a law that said it was illegal to spit, wear heels, walk backwards, or enter Diagon Alley without first notifying the DMLE of your intention to be there among other ridiculousness was always good for a laugh. Or a stunned, disbelieving look. If nothing else, the foray into abolishing those types of laws had opened everyone's eyes to just how completely ridiculous it was possible to get. Hopefully encouraging the Wizengamot to not be morons in future.

Amelia fully planned to move to dealing with more recent laws in addition to abolishing old ones next week. She'd need the rest of this week to conduct her planned audit of every department. Most of the evil and truly incompetent employees had been dismissed by now, of course, but she needed to talk to the department heads to see what sort of staff they needed to handle their workloads, and talk over recruitment and training needs. Fortunately, for most departments, the turnaround time for improvement would be a lot shorter than what it would be for the Auror corps. It would be a year at most before most of the other departments were on a much better footing.

After dinner and the end of the Wizengamot meeting, Amelia pulled the first of the department heads into her office for a talk. In this case, Arthur Weasley. The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office needed help, badly. Amelia knew it was just Arthur and one other person, which couldn't even begin to be enough. Plus, Amelia planned on expanding that department to include more than misuse of Muggle items. Arthur didn't know it, but he was about to become the head of the Muggle Division, which would include his old office, the Obliviators, and an as-yet not formed Muggle Liason Office, which would be in charge of things like notifying the Prime Minister of escapees from Azkaban, so that the Muggle world could be put on alert, dealing with Muggleborns and their families when they had questions or concerns and didn't know who else to approach, and coordinating efforts for things like the Quidditch World Cup with Muggle officials in the know among other duties.

Arthur returned home that night rather stunned. He'd never expected to be respected or a wizard of consequence. Now, here he was in charge of what would be the second-largest department in the Ministry, behind only the revamped DMLE's projected numbers. With a salary to match. Which meant that, for the first time, his family would not be strapped for cash.

Arthur fully intended to draft Percy's assistance. For one, it would help to bridge the gap that had opened over the summer between Percy and the rest of the family, as Percy had initially supported Crouch and Fudge fully. Fortunately, things had exploded before anything truly unfortunate could said or done on either side, and Percy had returned to the fold. But things were still strained. Hopefully, seeking Percy's advice and assistance would help to bridge the gap.

There was also the simple fact that Percy was a natural at the sort of organization and attention to minutia that would be required in the formation of an effective, organized department. He would doubtlessly know, or know where to find out the various requirements, and have a good idea of how many people would be needed to effectively perform which tasks. Things that Arthur either didn't know, or only knew in theory because he'd been having to handle a ridiculous workload with just two people, and no hope of more to assist. That sort of thing fostered a completely different mindset than a properly staffed department would.

Molly greeted him with a kiss. "You're home late, dear. Lots of celebrating at the office?"

Arthur smiled, realizing that Molly thought his good mood was solely due to Amelia becoming Minister. "Quite a bit, yes. And quite a bit of ducking for cover as well. Amelia's made no bones, pardon the pun, about her desire to completely revamp the entire Ministry. Word has it she was closeted with Alastor, Kinglsey and Rufus most of the morning."

"Well, that bodes well for the DMLE at least." Molly said. "That lot's always been the most common-sensible and level-headed when it comes to that department."

"Very true. And they're evidently still sorting the old laws, as from what I heard, the Wizengamot members came out of meeting snickering again. I must say that if the laws they're dealing with are anything like some of the laws for Muggle artifacts, they've reason to be laughing." Arthur told her with a grin. "And the reason I'm late is that Amelia wanted to speak with me. She knew my department was in bad shape, through no fault of mine, and wanted to talk to me about how to fix it."

"That's wonderful, Arthur. Just getting some more employees will help considerably." Molly said.

Arthur nodded. "That wasn't all she had to discuss, either." He grinned broadly at her. "She's reorganizing some of the departments, and putting everything that deals with Muggles under one department, that she's calling the Muggle Division. The Obliviators, my office, and an entire new department called the Muggle Liason Office, which will be taking over all dealings with the Muggle world that don't involve broken laws in one way or another. That way, everyone's in one place, and there's no need to try to figure out where to go for a specific issue."

Molly nodded. "That does seem a good thing to do. Things were split up between a number of departments before. Has she any idea who she's going to have run it all?"

Arthur's grin stretched across almost his entire face. "Me." He said, and then laughed when Molly actually squealed like she was thirty years younger and hugged him hard.

"Oh, Arthur! That's wonderful!"

Arthur kissed her cheek. "You've no idea, Molly-love. I'm getting an enormous raise as well as being head of the department. My pay's going to be nearly equal to what the head of the DMLE gets." 

The Head of that Department was the most well-paid of the department heads, given the job they had to do. Prior to this, Arthur had been the worst-paid department head, earning less than all the other heads, and less than most of the senior members of the other departments to boot, due to the unpopularity of the department in the pureblood elitist circles that had been all but running the Ministry for the last couple decades.

"Do you think Percy would still be up? I'd like to firecall him. He'd left before I was done talking to Amelia. I'm going to need his help building this department and making it work efficiently." Arthur said.

Molly considered. "He probably is, Arthur." Her eyes gleamed in pleasure at bringing Percy fully back into the fold.

Arthur nodded and gave her one last kiss before heading for the fireplace. Fortune smiled on him, in that Percy was not only up, but answered the floo. He looked a touch wary, but also pleased.

"Hello son. I wish I could say I was calling just to chat, but I'm actually calling to ask for your assistance. I've been promoted at work. Put as head to an entirely new department, parts of which are going to have to be built from the ground up. And I could use a hand with it. It's going to be quite the undertaking."

There was no mistaking the surprised, delighted gleam in Percy's eyes. Arthur felt a bit badly. Percy had been, largely, the forgotten son due to his quiet personality. It had been easy for him to get lost in the background when competing against five brothers, all with much louder, flashier temperaments, and a fiery-tempered baby sister.

"It would be my pleasure, father." Percy said. "We should perhaps meet tomorrow, to discuss the details in full?"

Arthur nodded agreement. "That would be ideal. Say, first thing in the morning, as soon as we get in? We're going to have a lot to go over."

Percy nodded. "Your old office, I presume?"

Arthur nodded. "For now. We'll be getting new offices, but that's one of the things we're going to have to figure out. Where, and how many, that sort of thing."

Percy nodded again, and Arthur could swear he could see Percy's mind already turning over the lists of things that might need to be gone over and dealt with already. "I'll see you then, father."

"Goodnight son. And say hello to Penelope for me."

Percy smiled. "I will."

October 24, Hogwarts

Amelia's confirmation as Minister didn't change much at Hogwarts, except to allow people to relax that last little bit now that they were sure an idiot wasn't going to be at the reins.

Minerva had spent most of the day closeted with various potential future teachers for the next year's additional classes, wanting to give them plenty of time to develop a curriculum once they were hired, since many of them would be starting from scratch.

Finding someone qualified to ensure that the incoming students met the minimum requirements for reading and writing was simple, thankfully. There weren't any unusual requirements for that position. Finding a teacher for the new Wizarding Culture class would have been a nightmare if Sirius hadn't pointed her in the direction of Andromeda Tonks, who had been raised steeped in wizarding culture but lived in the muggle world with her husband, and thus would be able to explain and translate for muggle-born and raised wizards far better than someone who'd never been near the muggle world.

The Music and Arts electives, however, were going to take some doing. Mostly because there was so much to cover under those two umbrellas, and they would probably have to split the classes into general groups to get anywhere.

Hooch was making a great deal of progress on the sports end of things, having already consulted with various muggleborn students she knew of that were fans of various sports. Plans to mark the Quidditch pitch and obtain the necessary equipment were well under way, and might well be in place for the sports traditionally played in winter. It helped that word had spread through the grapevine that muggle sports were going to be permitted, as Hooch had shortly been inundated with quite a bit of fairly knowledgeable help.

Filius was having more fun than ought to be legal with the Dueling Club, which had met for the first time, officially anyway, last week. Given what everyone had just lived through, it hadn't surprised Minerva a bit to find practically the entire school wanting in on the club. Interestingly, Severus of all people had stepped up to assist Filius when it became clear there was no way for a single teacher to handle so many students. They were now making plans to split the students between them, in two rough groups, beginners and experienced. Filius planned on taking the beginner's group, which was pobably wise as Severus still had little to no patience with so-called dunderheads. As much as things had changed, it was clear that at least in that regard, some things never would.

Minerva shot a glance over at Fawkes, who'd parked himself on his perch when Dumbledore had been jailed and hadn't moved since. He was starting to look a little ragged around the edges, a sign his burning day was approaching, though Minerva guessed it to still be two weeks away, give or take a few days. She just hoped Fawkes would be freed from Dumbledore's influence. It was painful, seeing such a magnificent creature like this.


	12. Broken Bonds

Broken Bonds

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

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November 10, Hogwarts

For about fifty years, Fawkes had been a prisoner. Forced to obey a man he found completely abhorrent and unable to escape ... or even convey to anyone that he was, in fact, a prisoner. It wasn't like anyone could understand his vocalizations. And virtually no one had any idea that phoenixes were self-aware. Mostly, again, because of the communication issue. It was rather hard to get someone to realize you were fully aware when you were a bird who couldn't talk.

But the man had gone away months ago, and not returned. From what Fawkes had overheard since then, someone had realized the man's malfeasance and done something about it. They'd even realized that the man had done something to him to force his compliance.

The relief had been intense. He would be out from under the man's control soon. Fawkes' only concern was that one of the others would attempt to recreate the man's controls. But over the last few weeks, that concern had disappeared. No one ever came near his perch. They all left him alone, except to ensure he had food and water at his disposal. It was pure luck he'd been so close to Burning. He wasn't sure what he'd have done if he'd been facing three more years of imprisonment. 

Always before, even when he'd been free, he'd despised this time of his life cycle. The weakness that dragged him down, the exhaustion. The only compensation was the knowledge that it took a mere two months from him starting to lose his feathers to being full grown and at full strength once more. And even then, that compensation had been tainted, over the last fifty years, by the knowledge that the man would spend that entire period reinforcing his control over Fawkes.

It was coming. He could feel it. The tickling itch that presaged Burning working its way over his body and grew in strength, making him curl in on himself at the uncomfortable sensation as it peaked. And then it transformed into the glorious, comforting sensation of heat as flames danced, briefly, in his vision and through his body, soothing the ticklish itch before the world crumpled into darkness.

HPHPHPHPHP

McGonagall had been keeping a sharp eye on Fawkes for the last week. He'd been looking increasingly ragged and almost ill, a sure sign his burning day was approaching. It made her ill, to think of all the times she'd seen Fawkes like that, and never realized Dumbledore was keeping the gorgeous creature prisoner. To think she'd never questioned why she had seen him in decline, but never seen him on his burning day or the days shortly thereafter.

Harry had been horrified to realize that he'd been *present* for Fawkes' re-imprisonment once. He'd told both Sirius and herself all about his encounter with Fawkes in his second year. McGonagall had come away from that with the intense desire to kill Dumbledore personally, because she was fairly sure that he had been forcing his will on Fawkes right in front of Harry, who'd been none the wiser. Worse, she suspected it had been a calculated display. One creature he was controlling and manipulating watching as another was thus enslaved. Given that Dumbledore had had plans to introduce Harry to Occlumency, which would have informed Harry of the dangers of direct eye contact with certain people, Dumbledore included, McGonagall had a feeling Dumbledore had wanted Harry to figure out Fawkes was under his control, as a method of saying 'If a creature this powerful is forced to my will, what chance do you have of escape?'.

She was in the middle of doing some paperwork when an odd sound from Fawkes' direction impinged on her awareness. She looked up just in time to see him curl in on himself and burst into flame. She gave a grim, pleased smile.

"Good luck, Fawkes. I hope this is enough to break his control of you." She murmured.

HPHPHPHPHP

The darkness gave way to the dim, filtered light as seen through his pile of ash, and Fawkes pushed his way to the surface, shaking his head to dislodge the pile of ash above him. For the first time in fifty years, Fawkes discovered he was able to assess his physical condition without interference, reassuring himself that the burning had gone well, as it ought.

It took him a few moments to realize that the compulsion to obey the man was gone. To realize that for the first time in fifty years, his mind was clear and free of any outside influence. Once he did realize it, he let out an ecstatic trill. Unfortunately, because he was a mere chick at the moment, it lost most of its impact, and any further celebration was necessarily curtailed. Ah well, he could always celebrate later as well.

HPHPHP

McGonagall couldn't quite prevent an amused, relieved laugh at the tiny but very happy sounding high-pitched trill that came from chick-Fawkes. If that sound was any indication, the compulsions were gone. They'd have to wait to be sure, allow Fawkes to get up to full strength, then have someone take a look at him and make sure there was no lingering trace of the forced bond. But right now, it was looking good. Then they'd have to figure out what the heck to do. 

McGonagall was leaning towards taking Fawkes' ashes back out into the wild somewhere, allow him to live completely free. She strongly doubted he'd be inclined to bond with anyone. She supposed, however, that it needed to be his choice. He deserved at least that much, after all he'd been through. Maybe if they packaged his ashes up in something he could carry? It was worth a try, at any rate, once he was full-grown again.

November 10, Location Unknown

Dumbledore was ... extremely bored. Locked in a tiny cabin, with naught but a thin cot and a chair for furniture, and no books or implements of any kind with which to amuse himself, Dumbledore had had no choice but to spend all his time awake thinking or staring into the distance. He'd quickly found himself sleeping as much as possible to pass the time. And he'd begun talking to himself just to have some sort of sound and at least the pretence of company. He never saw the house elf assigned to provide for him and clean up after him. She only ever did her jobs when he was deeply asleep, leaving him to wake to find his day's rations. At least he could mostly keep track of the time, as she came in once a week to clean the place up from what little mess he could make.

So it was that he was aware it was November, and Fawkes' burning day was very close. Which meant his time left on this earth was extremely short, as the Wizengamot had made it clear he was to be executed as soon as they were sure Fawkes would not follow him in permanent death. He would have at most a month after Fawkes' burning day left to live.

He still wondered where the hell he'd gone wrong in his plans and calculations. How things had gotten so out of control. It was just as well he had no ability to lash out magically, because he otherwise would have tried to do something to that ... that boy. That Xander. Most of the blame for the way things had fallen apart rested solely on that brat's shoulders. And there was nothing he could do about it. No one knew where he was, and most of the wizarding world would have been far more likely to kill him than help him, if they had known.

And then, between one moment and the next, breaking into his thoughts and scattering them completely, was the sudden dissolution of the bond. He felt it go, like an overstretched rubber band giving up the ghost in his head, the recoil stinging him mentally.

He was out of time. And there was nothing he could do about it. For the first time in his life, Albus began to realize what some of the people he'd used over the years must have felt, feeling the trap they couldn't see close around them. It was a highly displeasing sensation.

November 10 Hogwarts

Now that the fighting was over, Spike had found himself having a great deal of free time on his hands. Deciding to make the best of it, and recognizing that he and Xander would probably be in England for a while to come, Spike had decided to connect, or, in his case, re-connect, with the United Kingdom's demonic underground.

It had been a long time since he'd been here, in the UK proper. He and Dru had run all over Europe, but had only rarely come to the UK, the last time being during World War 2. They'd come here as a middle step to getting out of Europe entirely, heading for the United States and safer shores for the duration. The UK had been somewhat safer (the Blitz aside) than Europe proper, as the island had never been invaded.

Power bases in the demonic world could and frequently did change more frequently than in the human world, so Spike needed to find out if any of his old contacts were even still alive, never mind still in their old positions of power.

In the process, he'd been hearing some ... odd things. He'd learned his lesson, after Prague, about listening to the locals. They'd warned him and Dru that getting up to tricks in that town was a spectacularly bad idea, that the people were not blind to the existence of the demon world, and would not ignore it or blame it on something else if people started showing up dead with holes in their necks.

Spike had been getting an rather alarming number of warnings. Avoid this area entirely, and that one. Don't get up to tricks here, or there. It took him a couple days and a bit of research to realize that the areas he was being warned about coincided with magical areas.

But not public areas, like Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. No, the magical areas in question surrounded peoples' homes. More interesting, and alarming, was that the homes in question? Largely belonged to the people that had recently been shoved through the Veil with extreme prejudice, or had died in the battle at Hogwarts.

It didn't add up. These people had been fighting side by side with demons very recently. Which possibly explained why he was hearing that none of the demons in the attack had been locals. They'd all been from the continent. It all added up to a heck of a mystery, which Spike was getting nowhere solving. He needed some help on this, and more importantly, the others needed to know something was up.

It was late enough in the day that Xander ought to be in his room, so Spike headed there first, and knocked on the door. Sure enough, it opened a few moments later.

"Hey Spike. What's up? Getting anywhere with the underground?" Xander asked as he waved Spike into his room.

"Yeah. Few of my contacts are still around and in position. Couple have even gone up in rank." Spike said. "So I ought to be able to keep ahead of any trouble that comes from that direction between now and whenever we leave." Spike slouched into one of the chairs in Xander's room, arms and legs sprawled wide. "Somethin' odd's goin' on, though."

Xander, who'd taken the chair in front of his desk, leaned forward. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah. Been gettin' warned off of magical areas by practically everyone I talk to. Thing is, it isn't Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade or the like they're warning me away from."  
Xander frowned. "That is odd. Where are they warning you away from, then?"

"The areas around the homes of quite a few of the folks we just got done fighting." Spike said.

Xander blinked. "You're sure?"

"Double checked it at the Ministry." Spike said. "They've got the locations of all the properties they seized over there. Not everyone we fought's on the list, but quite a number of them are."

Xander frowned. "That is ... really, really odd. And makes no sense, given that Voldemort used demons in the fight against Hogwarts. I wonder what the deal is?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, right now." Spike said. "I'll try'n get ahold of someone who makes sense, rather than speaking in warnings and riddles. Thought there might be more information to be found somewhere on this side of things, though."

"Good point ... demons would need a damn good reason to be leery of certain areas. That sort of thing implies either one big battle that left a really strong memory, or a long period of smaller conflicts." Xander said. "Either way, there'd be some sort of record somewhere of what was going on. I'll talk to Sirius. His family was dead-center of that sort of group, so they'd be likely to have that sort of record, and it would save us the trouble of trying to wade through the good alone knows how many books from the libraries of the seized properties."


	13. Time Together

Time Together

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

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November 25, Watcher HQ

In the wake of Sunnydale's collapse, the Scoobies had adopted and adapted Thanksgiving to their own purposes. They had turned it into a day to be thankful for surviving another year, and to remember those who hadn't.

Unlike the actual holiday, Scooby Thanksgiving was not locked into a particular day, mostly as a nod to the fact that their schedules didn't generally allow for such rigidity. This year, for example, with most of the celebrants scattered all over England and unable to take a Thursday off, the celebration was postponed until the weekend.

Now, Giles, Buffy, Willow, Dawn, Xander, Faith and Spike were at HQ and closeted in Giles' suite. It was rather sobering to realize that the attendees were roughly half of the survivors that had fought in Sunnydale prior to the First's assault. More than half of the Scooby squad over the years had either never escaped Sunnydale or had been killed in L.A. at some point. Even then, Buffy counted as one of the 'dead', because she had been killed and buried at one point. Even adding in the Slayerettes who had flocked to Sunnydale when the culling of Potentials started failed to improve matters. Of the dozen-plus girls that had made it to Sunnydale, only six still lived. In short, demon hunting was a brutal, brutal business.

Which was why they'd started celebrating surviving another year, and remembering the ones who hadn't. None of them had any illusions about eventually being on the 'being remembered' half of the program sooner rather than later.

There was no talk of current business during the meal. Instead, they all laughed and talked and remembered various incidents in Sunnydale. The stories focused mostly on good memories of the now-lost Scoobies, though there was certainly a fair amount of good-natured raillery at each other over their teenaged foibles. In the case of Giles and Spike, it was good-natured teasing about their British-ness, especially with Giles. Once the meal was over, there was a long moment of silence to respect the dead, and then they cleaned up before sprawling on the couches Giles had installed in his sitting room.

"So, how are things in the Ministry?" Xander asked.

"Going surprisingly well." Giles said. "With the bulk of the subversive element driven from the body, they're being remarkably sensible, for politicians. Though that may well change in a few weeks, as they're finally starting to hit bottom on the ridiculous laws on the books that everyone can agree need to be stricken."

Xander grimaced. "At which point they start going over the not-blatantly-obviously-wrong laws and the fighting starts." He said.

"Quite. That will be the real test for Madame Bones' ability to lead, I fear." Giles said. "And things on your end?"

"Way quieter than on yours." Xander said. "The teachers have been having a blast revamping their classes and suggesting new ones and getting them ready to be added to the curriculum next year. Draco seems to be taking his desire to move to the Muggle world seriously. I've seen him talking to several Muggleborn Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. He's not approached any of the ones in Gryffindor. Given the rivalry between his House and theirs, and how badly he fought with Harry and his friends, that's probably a wise move."

"An' Snape's still on a tear with his Slytherins." Spike added. "Seems to be working, too."

"What of the demonic no-go zones?" Giles wanted to know.

"No word from Black yet." Spike said. "But given how far back he's got to look, might be a while yet."

"Daphne Greengrass has been a heck of a help." Xander continued. "Her father's library is ... interesting. As much for the stuff it doesn't have as what it does."

"What do you mean?" Giles asked, knowing that Xander meant more than the Greengrass library wasn't as extensive as Hogwarts'.

"Greengrass has evidently made a point of not including books with blatant disinformation in them." Xander said. "As well as books with a heavily bigoted bias in either direction. He's got a list of titles of books that are like that, but not the books themselves. And he's got books that back up his assertion that the books on the list are wrong or badly biased."

"Intriguing. I assume this has been a long-term family project?" Giles asked.

"Has to have been." Xander said. "Some of the books either on the list or used to refute the list are older than Hogwarts."

"What's interestin'." Spike said. "Is that there's a sharp increase in bad books starting 'bout fifty years ago. Right 'bout the time the whiskered wanker 'won' his little spat with his ex-buddy."

"Right about the time that Dumbledore attained the preeminence he felt he deserved." Giles said with a sigh. "And was able to begin twisting things to his requirements." Giles shook his head. "Speaking of that blasted man, any word on Fawkes?"

"Close to full strength now, according to McGonagall." Xander said. "She's been keeping well clear of him, and has forbidden even the house-elves to go into the office until he's full power, in hopes it will reassure Fawkes. Seems to be working. We'll know for sure if he's free and clear in another week or so, she said."

"That is a relief." Giles said. "I sincerely doubt anyone will see Fawkes again once he is able to go his own way. He can't have been happy with fifty years or so of slavery."

"No kidding." Xander said.

"Octavian is doing good as well." Willow said. "He's keeping his promise, and making slow but steady progress with earth magic. I don't think he'll be really powerful, but given how you get power with earth magic, that's not necessarily a bad thing." The less Octavian had to mess about with the gods, the better it would be for him. There was always some sort of price when you appealed to the gods, and it wasn't always an easy price to pay.

"Quite." Giles agreed, and the others all nodded. They were familiar with the price that Willow'd had to pay over the years for her own dabbling. None of them wanted a repeat of that.

"So how many folks do you think we'll get from magic-land?" Dawn wanted to know.

"Roughly a dozen or so, I think." Xander said. "We've pretty much got Sirius, Remus, and Harry in the bag. They're so angry and disillusioned they're going to jump at a way to be rid of the magical world, at least for a while. They might go back someday, but it won't be for a long while. And I'm willing to bet that Harry never does go back."

"I doubt he will either." Giles agreed. "Even with you being the one to actually kill Voldemort, the wizarding world will never leave Harry in peace."

"Draco's goin' to join up too." Spike said. "And maybe Daphne, of the kids. That Ron bloke, and the Hermione chit will follow Harry, I think. At least for a while."

"Flitwick and Snape have both been sniffing about too." Xander said. "I don't think either of them is going to commit full-time, but they'll probably be more than happy to consult and be backup help for big apocalypses."

"Same for some of the Aurors we've worked with ... especially Moody, the crazy bastard." Spike said.

"Madame Bones has been expressing a great deal of interest in some of our magical tricks." Giles said. "Especially Willow's containment bubble. She was a bit disappointed when I told her it was an earth magic technique that took a certain amount of power to use."

"I'll bet she was. With the dementors gone, they're going to need a better way to guard their criminals. A containment bubble'd work a treat. But not even Willow can make one THAT big." Xander said, having seen pictures of Azkaban. "She's scary good, but she's not quite that good."

That got a laugh from Willow. "Definitely not. And creating containment bubbles for the individual cells wouldn't really work with the way the place is set up. They'd overlap, and while some spells can overlap, the containment spell's not one of them. Creates weak spots and holes in the bubble, rather than strengthening the bubble."

November 25, Hogwarts

The Scoobies weren't the only ones enjoying a weekend to themselves. Sirius, Remus, and Harry were similarly ensconced in Sirius' quarters. Of course, in their case, it wasn't something as grand and traditional as what the Scoobies were doing.

Remus was sitting at Sirius' desk, grading essays. Sirius was sprawled on the small couch doing likewise. Harry was sprawled on the floor at Sirius' feet finishing his homework. After a few more moments of silence, Sirius finally rolled up the last essay.

"Right, that's done. How close are you two?" He asked.

"Give me five more minutes." Remus said. "This student's scrawl is nearly illegible."

"About the same here, Sirius." Harry said.

"Cool. I'll get us some tea while I wait. Dobby!"

Dobby popped in. "Yous is calling, Master Black sir?"

"Dobby, could you bring us up some tea for the three of us?" Sirius asked.

Dobby nodded emphatically. "Dobby is doing it right away, Master Black sir." He said, and disappeared again.

"He is so much easier to deal with than Kreacher ever was." Sirius said with a sigh. "I cannot begin to tell you how nice it is to deal with a house elf that doesn't give me the willies."

There was an amused laugh from Harry. "You just have to deal with the overexcitement."

"Not me so much. Just you." Sirius said with an amused snort.

Harry lifted his head long enough to stick his tongue out at Sirius, then went back to his homework.

Dobby arrived back with a heavily laden tray at that point, and placed it on the side-table next to the couch.

"Stay, Dobby. You can join us for lunch." Harry offered. Complaints aside, he did like Dobby, a lot. He'd long since forgiven Dobby for his actions second year. The little guy's heart had been in the right place, and he'd saved Harry quite a bit of grief since then.

Dobby went wide-eyed. "Yous is wanting Dobby to eats with you? Like he is a wizard?"

Harry snorted as he finished one last sentence and then rolled his parchment and closed his book. "You can do magic, can't you? Qualifies you as a wizard in my books, Dobby." He said.

This, of course, got him floods of tears and an ecstatic Dobby hug. Harry grinned down at the little guy and patted his back.

While Harry was busy with Dobby, Remus finally finished grading his last essay and rolled it up. "Right, that's done. Now let's eat."

They divvied up the spoils between the four of them. Dobby looked a little shifty and uncomfortable at first, but once he realized that neither Sirius nor Remus was going to object, he relaxed a little bit.

"So how've things been?" Sirius asked, once their first hunger was satisfied and they'd been reduced to nibbling.

"Unnervingly quiet." Harry admitted. "I'm used to being up to my ears in intrigue and danger and mystery this time of year. Not having anything like that going on has me rather uncomfortable, for all I've enjoyed it."

"You'll eventually get used to it, kiddo." Sirius said, reaching down to ruffle Harry's hair. 

Harry saw him coming and leaned forward enough to evade Sirius' hand. "Hey! Quit trying to tangle the hair!" Harry squawked.

Sirius laughed at him and nudged his back. "So. There is something we do need to talk about." He said.

"What's that?" Harry wanted to know.

"I think I know." Remus said, smiling at Sirius.

"The Council's offer to us. I know they've been dangling juicy carrots in front of Remus for a while. Me too."

"They hardly had to try with me." Harry admitted. "They treat me like *Harry*. Not like the Savior of the Wizarding World or an up-and-coming Dark Lord. Which is more than the magical world can say." He huffed.

"And they don't care about my lycanthropy." Remus said. "Heck, according to them, I won't even be the first werewolf on the Council's payroll."

"They're even fine with Dobby. Xander gets a kick out of you." Harry said, glancing at the little house-elf.

"So the real question is ... what are the downsides to joining them?" Sirius said.

"About the only thing I can think of is that we'd be fighting the Dark all the time." Harry said. "But even then ... we don't HAVE to be on the front lines. We can just do research or be Watchers, rather than full-time combat." Watching would involve getting into fights, of course, but not quite as many as if they became a front-line magical team. Especially if they became training Watchers to the younger girls.

"And plenty of bad sides to staying in the magical world." Sirius said with a sigh. "Even with things changing, bigotry won't end overnight. And like you pointed out, Harry, people just can't seem to let you be Harry, and I don't see that changing anytime soon, if ever."

"So we're decided then?" Remus asked, glancing at the others.

Sirius, Harry, and Dobby all nodded.

"As soon as I get my OWLs, we're signing up." Harry said. "So seven months, give or take a few days." He sounded (and felt) relieved as he leaned back into the couch. Sirius reached down and gripped his shoulder gently.

"You don't have to, kiddo." Sirius pointed out.

"I think I do. I don't want to give them an excuse to come hunt me down and try to obliviate me or something." Harry said. "Five Acceptables on the OWLs is the minimum requirement to be allowed to operate as an adult wizard. Without that ... I really don't want to find out what they'll do."

"You have a point." Sirius said. "All right, so OWLs. We can work on Potter Manor over Christmas break, make sure the place is livable, get the wards strengthened if need be, that sort of thing. That way we have a place to live other than the Council's HQ or wherever we end up getting sent."

"Dobby is being able to do that for yous, Master Black, if yous is telling Dobby where Potter Manor is being." Dobby offered. "Then yous can have a head start if it bes needing lots of work."

Sirius nodded. "All right, Dobby. Thanks for the offer. I'll give you the coordinates and you can head over there tomorrow, see what the place is like."


	14. Freedom At Last

Freedom At Last

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. This marks the end of Council and Ministry. I am aware that some things still aren't fully dealt with, but this particular fic bunny has died. I may someday continue in this 'verse, but don't count on it.

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December 8, Watcher HQ

Potter Manor had proved to be in surprisingly good repair. The Potter elves had died shortly after James and Lily, but, evidently some elves had taken it upon themselves to keep the mansion in as good repair as they could while also taking care of their duties to their own families. The result was that Dobby hadn't had to do much to make the place ready to be lived in full time.

Two days after Dobby had reported on the condition of Potter Manor, Sirius finally stumbled across something in his ancestors' diaries. It hadn't quite been what he'd been looking for, but it had given him a thread to follow. That was more than he'd had up to that point. Yesterday, he had finally hit pay dirt. He'd immediately contacted Xander, who had arranged for a meeting today with the Scoobies. Sirius, Remus, and Harry had all been invited to attend. So had Snape, Flitwick, Moody, Daphne, Octavius, and Draco.

Harry did a triple-take when he spotted Draco at the big table in the meeting room that had been commandeered for today's meeting.

"Malfoy? What on earth are you doing here?" Harry asked. To his credit, he sounded merely curious, rather than angry or suspicious.

Draco eyed Harry for a long moment before he answered. "I have discovered that Muggles ... aren't all that bad." He finally said. "Merlin knows there's more opportunity for me here than in the magical world."

Harry thought about that for a minute before realizing that Draco was in nearly as bad a place as Harry was, as far as the magical world was concerned. After all, his father and his grandfather had been die-hard Voldemort supporters. No one in the magical world was going to trust that Draco was anything but evil.

"Point." Harry admitted aloud. He left Draco alone after that. He still didn't like the blonde ferret, but the New Watcher's Council was big enough for the both of them. They didn't have to deal with each other if they didn't want to.

"So, Mr. Black, what did you find?" Giles asked, bringing the meeting to order, more or less.

"I ran across a mention in one of my ancestors' journals a bit over a week ago." Sirius said, putting several parchment scrolls he'd been carrying on the table. "Where it said something to the effect of 'those Watcher bastards', only in period-appropriate terminology." He snorted. "It was the first mention of anything related to demons I'd seen, and that it mentioned your predecessors' group specifically caught my eye. So I scanned through earlier entries by that particular ancestor, which led me to a much earlier one. That's when I found these." He patted the scrolls gently.

"Basically, what it boils down to, is that evidently - back when the Slayers were made - there were Magicals that strenuously objected to the idea. They didn't approve of essentially enslaving some poor kid." Sirius said. "This faction did what they could to help stem the tide of demon incursions, up to and including creating all-new spells designed specifically to deal with demons."

Giles blinked at Sirius in surprise. "Well, that certainly answers for why your world is still partially aware of the demon world." He said.

"It gets more interesting than that." Sirius said. "See, it wasn't just the one faction. There was another faction that agreed with the creation of the Slayer wholeheartedly, and thereafter declared dealing with demons 'Slayer business'. They didn't approve of the families that were joining in on the fight, and started legislating to try to prevent it."

"I bet that ended well." Buffy said.

Sirius laughed. "You'd be right. That's why there are certain pockets of the UK, and I imagine elsewhere, that demons know to avoid. The magical government could stop people from demon hunting in public, but what the pureblood families did on their own lands, under a heck of a lot of wards that generally prevented anyone from knowing what they were up to, the government couldn't stop." He sighed. "Unfortunately, eventually some idiot decided that using demon-killer spells on humans was a good idea."

"And thus, the so-called Dark Arts were born." Severus said. "And over time all this was forgotten, which explains why no one knew anything about all this. I imagine Minister Bones will find laws pertaining to this in the coming weeks and months."

"She probably will." Sirius agreed. "Anyway, it turns out that all the so-called Dark Families, and more than one of the Neutral Families have some link to the folks that disagreed with the creation of the Slayer and continued demon-hunting privately."

"This is going to stir a few things up." Harry said, sounding amused. "The Light families are *not* going to like the insinuation that they were originally 'bad guys'."

That got some sort of amused reaction from everyone at the table.

"The Dark families are going to be rather confused." Sirius said. "After who knows how long of this blood superiority thing, finding out this is where they got their starts ... " He shrugged. "But maybe we can get them back on the straight and narrow with this."

"We'd certainly welcome anyone wanting to 'get back to their roots' as it were." Giles agreed. "We can use all the help we can get."

"And then some." Buffy agreed. "Even with all the Slayers now, we're still swamped, and can't get to every trouble spot before things go critical. We have to prioritize the world-endy stuff over everything else. But if we could stop the idiots before they get to the world-endy stage, life would be a lot easier and simpler."

"No shit." Xander said with feeling. "It would mean less mad scrambling, for one. And anything that results in fewer almost-apocalypses gets my vote."

There was heartfelt agreement from the Scoobies for that sentiment.

December 10, Hogwarts

Minerva had known that Fawkes would be leaving any day now. She had, the evening before, very carefully transferred Fawkes' ashes to a small leather bag tied with a string that he could bite through. Fawkes had watched her every move warily, only relaxing when she'd left the tied bag in the ash-pan under his roost.

She had arrived early in the morning, as had become her usual. There was so much to sort out and organize as they restructured Hogwarts' curriculum, hiring practices, and pretty much everything else they could get their hands on. She had just started on the day's paperwork when Fawkes, who had been sleeping when she arrived, woke.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Today was the day. Oh, he could have gone anytime in the last week, Fawkes knew. He'd been more or less back up to full strength a week ago. But he had remained for a short time longer, both to ensure he was truly back to full strength and because he hadn't known what to do about his ashes.

Then, the woman had solved that problem for him; putting every scrap of his ashes into a pouch he could easily carry and tear open whenever he found someplace he wanted to settle. He was going to make very, very sure that wherever he settled was as far away from humans as he could possibly get. But he was going to leave one last gift before he left.

He snagged the leather bag in his talons and then spread his wings wide, filling the office with a vibrant, triumphant song. The woman's head came up when he started to move and she smiled at his song.

"Good luck, Fawkes." She said.

Fawkes, still singing in triumph, flashed out of Hogwarts.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Minerva had heard Fawkes sing in the past, of course. But it had never, ever been anything like this. This was joy and triumph on a level that made her heart twinge at the same time it made her want to laugh and dance a jig.

Once he was gone, she headed for the floo and contacted Amelia.

"Well, that's a mercy." Amelia told her when Minerva had filled her in. "I don't know what we'd've done if he'd been damaged by that man's actions. I'll contact the Watcher crew, so they can bring Dumbledore in." She sighed. "Personally, I'm going to be glad to kick that old goat through the Veil ... the damage he's done!"

"I know what you mean, Amelia. But we'll get it fixed." Minerva said. "And then he'll be nothing but a footnote."

Amelia barked a laugh. "I like that notion. Yes, let the old goat be forgotten. It's a fitting final punishment for a man who wanted to be the center of attention."

December 10, Watcher HQ

Sirius, Remus, and Harry had spent the last weekend at Watcher HQ, talking over what Sirius had found, and how to reveal that information to the wizarding world. They were at it yet again this morning, in one of the meeting rooms, talking to Xander, Spike, Giles and Buffy. Everyone in the room jumped about a foot when Fawkes flashed in, singing triumphantly and indulging in rather dizzying acrobatics overhead.

They were all grinning, laughing, and in most cases clapping when Fawkes finally landed briefly on the table, near Harry. He turned his head and started preening himself, only to come away with one long, perfect tail feather. He laid it on the table and nudged it towards Harry, then took off again, singing once more before he flashed out again.

Harry had to shake himself after Fawkes left before he managed to regain his wits. He took comfort in the fact that everyone else in the room seemed to be as affected by Fawkes' song. Once he'd cleared his head, he picked up the feather and carefully stroked it before looking around, somewhat at a loss as to what to do with it to keep it safe.

"Hang on a sec, Harry." Xander said after a few long moments. He left the room, then came back with a slim wood case that was normally used to hold a dagger during transport. "This'll work until you can pack it somewhere safe at your place."

"Thanks, Xander." Harry said, gratefully accepting the box and setting the feather inside. The depression where the dagger went was just long enough to accommodate the feather.

"Well, I guess that means we're going to be getting a call from either Minerva or Amelia shortly." Sirius said. "They're going to want Dumbledore, now that Fawkes is definitely free and clear."

"I had best go warn Willow." Giles said. "It will take us some time to get to where we incarcerated him, get him out, and get him to the Ministry. Especially if we want to do it without garnering a great deal of attention."

"Yeah, the less of an audience there is for this, the better." Remus agreed.

They did indeed get a call from Amelia Ten minutes later and arrangements were made to bring Dumbledore to the Ministry that evening, after the bulk of the employees had gone home for the day.

December 10, Dumbledore's cottage and Ministry

Just after dusk, a small group arrived at Dumbledore's little cabin in the middle of nowhere. It consisted of Willow, Xander, Amelia and Minerva. While he'd been given the option, Harry had decided to not attend Dumbledore's execution. Remus and Sirius, on the other hand, were already at the Ministry, awaiting the group's arrival just outside the entrance to the Department of Mysteries.

They walked in, and Willow immediately wrapped Dumbledore in a person-sized anti-escape bubble.

"Ah." Dumbledore said. "So you have come to eliminate your only hope ... "

"I *will* have Willow silence you, Dumbledore." Xander snapped. "We are very, very done with your bullshit. You fucked up and you got caught. Now it's time to take your punishment. The question is: are you going to go out a sniveling coward, or with some shred of dignity?"

That succeeded in shutting Dumbledore up, at least for the moment. They left the cottage and Willow cancelled the anti-escape bubble that surrounded it before they all teleported to the Ministry, appearing about ten feet away from Remus and Sirius.

Dumbledore glanced around with a clear air of expecting more people. Xander chuckled darkly. "Just us, Dumbles. No throngs of people to gawk, or for you to try to soliloquize to. Fifteen minutes from now, you're just going to be a footnote in history, yet another wizard with delusions of grandeur that failed spectacularly in his goals."

The last of the fire seemed to go out of Dumbledore at that, not that any of them were actually going to believe it. Amelia led them through the Department to the room with the Veil. Willow immediately established a second anti-escape bubble, this one engulfing the entire dais where the Veil stood. Dumbledore, inside his man-sized bubble, was a foot or two away from the Veil proper, far enough in that his bubble didn't touch the larger one. As Willow had noted not so long ago, that would have created problems. That done, Willow cancelled the smaller bubble.

"Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore, you have found guilty of most heinous crimes and sentenced to death by the Wizengamot." Amelia intoned, then, in a less official tone. "You have the choice of walking under your own power, or being forced through." Normally it was 'walk, or be thrown', but in this case, with the anti-escape bubble, literal throwing would be unnecessary.

For a long moment, Dumbledore looked like he was going to make them force him, but he finally turned and walked through the Veil under his own power. A full minute later, Willow cancelled the anti-escape bubble, and everyone walked out.

With the architect of the latest near-disaster disposed of, it was time to get on with the business of living.


End file.
